The Love of a Blacksmith: W&E's Journey
by Love to be Curious
Summary: The inbetween scenes that took place during the CotBP, that are either deleted scenes or imagined! W/E pairing with a smidge of J/E island scenes and peas in a pod REVIEW PLEASE!
1. Chapter 1: Greetings

OT: Well, here I am. A bit of a horrible person because I have two fics going on now, even though the other is nearly finished. Oh well. I couldn't wait to start this one. Several people liked my fanfic about "inbetween scenes" during the course of the second and third pirates movie called "When the Rain Began to Fall..." The idea of writing a couple inbetween scenes for the first movie then began to roll around in my head, but then I thought, "No, no. What could I cover?"

Well...I did figure out scenes to piece through the movie, including all of the deleted scenes, a few cut lines, and my own imagination. It will switch from the vantage points of Will and Elizabeth, and occasionally Jack when he is a dominant part of the scene (i.e. island inbetween/deleted scenes.) Hopefully reviewers will come! I do love reviews, critisizing or praising, giggles or angry opinions. Any and everything is welcome.

Pairing: Will and Elizabeth

Summary: Will arriving at the mansion, the carriage ride, and the actual, very uncomfortable ceremony.

No copyright infringement intended, of course.

This is mostly Elizabeth's point of view, but the next will concern a lot of Will... considering how he came to find out about Miss Swann's dealings with Captain Jack Sparrow and his entering into the smithy. I also tried to make Elizabeth... Not quite likeable in this chapter except when it came to her affections for Will. At least for now. Don't get me wrong. I think her character is brilliant, but... I view her as very spoiled and unaware of how politics affect her in the end... I mean, look at the ending of the first film. She grabs Will's arm and gives him a look, "My father will fix this." Will says he will take responsibility for his actions, something she is just beginning to learn about. Its an important theme in my eyes.

Ah, now I'm rambling, aren't I? Best not give everything away. Savvy? Sorry for the long intro.

Enjoy! And I'm serious, leave reviews. Hehe :D

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William Turner warily entered, fiddling with the lining of his stitched jacket as he tucked the pristine, leather case under his arm. He nodded to the dreary servant, whose brown, squinting eyes hung limply, but the man only arched one eyebrow and ordered him to wait in the foyer. He halted in front of the door, his eyes swiveling from one side of the chamber to the other, attempting to locate the Governor or gain a glimpse of the lovely Miss Swann. What was he thinking? Elizabeth...Miss Swann...His love... Would most certainly still be abed. He recalled her resolute and unyielding policy: the day only began to waste _after _noon.

A small smile crept at the corners of his mouth, but it quickly vanished and fluttered in his stomach. When was the last time he had spoken to her? Two weeks? No, it must have been a month. It was when the governor set in an order. This order, actually. He glanced at his own craftsmanship that would soon belong to another. A greater man than he and the rival for Elizabeth's affections. Not that her affections would ever belong to Will...

He cleared his throat and smoothed his fastened chocolate brown locks, feeling entirely awkward standing alone without a soul to speak to. A maid ambled past him with a large woven basket of flowers hoisted upon her shoulder and then a swift-step man met her mid-way, mentioning a chore to be done before continuing his trek. William abruptly realized how shabby he looked – even compared to the servants. Their clothes were pressed, their wigs aligned, and their faces... Their expressions seemed so flawlessly firm. There was no caution in their purpose.

Will rubbed the toe of his buckle shoes against his stockings, hoping to shine them a bit. The walk to the mansion had dirtied his ankles something terrible. No use. He then stared at those worn-out shoes that he had owned for over two years. They were now growing tight, but what means did he have of buying new shoes? He must save his money for buying Mr. Brown's shop, not for frivolous desires. He nervously paced the entrance and paused at the tolling grandfather clock and then at a towering sconce. He reached up, finding one of the candles quite eschew, but when he attempted to straighten it, part of the sconce snapped into his hand, the popping sound resonating in the chamber as his face formed in a foul frown. Oh, no. One step into the Governor's mansion and he was already wreaking havoc. He heard footsteps. Footsteps of the governor! He hastily stashed the broken part in a basket clanging with canes and then spun around, flipping his eyes to the ceiling as the man entered.

Thank God.

It was only a servant with a tray of silver tea pots, his gaze only on his destination. Will nodded to the man and took a small step forward.

"Good day," he said, but the servant paid no heed. Will shook his head. Why did he feel the need to say something? How silly these people must think he is. How absurd he must look to Miss Swann... Or would look if she were standing before him. More footsteps and his gaze slowly turned to the Governor Weatherby Swann, who gracefully descended the staircase after yet another servant. Will strode to the nearby table and settled the case.

"Ah, Mr. Turner, good to see you again," the governor said with a small smile.

Perhaps he had grown a little sincere since his and Elizabeth's adventures of their childhood...But the man still glanced at him in slight distaste. Will always knew that.

"Good day, Sir," Will said confidently. "I have your order." He unlatched the leather case, fumbling with the lock for only a moment before unsheathing the beautifully constructed sword.

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Elizabeth clasped a corner of her skirt as she stepped into the carriage, her hand grazing against her taut stomach before settling into the cushioned seat beside her father. She sighed and gazed out the small window as William strolled out the door, mouthing something after her. She really shouldn't have behaved that callously toward him. It wasn't his fault that her father pressed such extreme measures of society upon them, but... Simultaneously, Elizabeth could not fully blame her father. She attempted to build those bridges with Will, and he rejected them time after time.

The carriage clattered forward, and she gripped the decorated side for a moment, feeling her stomach lurch beneath the constricting corset. At least the woman no longer felt woozy, as she did when she was speaking. She heard her father's knuckles crack and saw his wrists flick a few times.

"I do hope that you demonstrate a little more decorum in front of Commodore Norrington," the governor said, not meeting his daughter's confounded gaze. "After all, it is only through his efforts that Port Royal..." He paused to glance out of the window at the flurrying city. "Has become civilized at all, hm?"

She did not dare visit the subject of her father's or the commodore's reign. Politics were never her forte nor was she planning on studying the inner workings of a "just" city. There was always corruption. Never entirely civilized... After all, how else did that vile Lord Beckett in England rise to a commercial businessman?

"It is not as if I don't know him, Father." Elizabeth turned her own gaze back to the window. Besides, she thought, it seemed Will wouldn't allow any more memories to be shared.

"True," he said, watching Elizabeth wriggle in the seat slightly, from what he thought was anxiety at the topic. "But I am certain a respectable man like Commodore Norrington expects more from you, my dear, as do I."

Elizabeth didn't answer, suddenly sucking in a quick gasp of air. Her ribs scraped against the corset's grooved lining, and she slowly released the breath, finding short, steady breaths easier but far less comfortable. Blasted contraption. What _man _invented this?

Governor Swann gazed at his daughter inquisitively, furrowing his eyebrows as Elizabeth waved her left hand, gesturing that she was fine, even though she writhed in her seat uncontrollably until focusing her mindset elsewhere.

"How long will the ceremony last?" she asked, nearly sputtering out the words.

"No longer than a few hours, but as you must recall, there will be an honorary dinner afterward."

"Oh," Elizabeth said softly, casting her eyes to her peach skirt. She had hoped afterward she could apologize to Will. Very well, then. She would visit him on the morrow. "It had slipped my mind." Elizabeth pressed on her stiff stomach once more and rolled her shoulders.

"Are you all right, Elizabeth?"

"Yes, I am just a bit..." Well, there really wasn't another way to explain it. "I am horribly uncomfortable in this dress," she said.

"Well," he said, averting his gaze from his daughter. Her underclothes were hardly a subject of decency. "I suppose if the women of London can bear it, my daughter can."

Elizabeth scoffed at the notion. Apparently he had forgotten all the fashion statements she had ignored through the years, due to their distance from England's society and her intolerance for awkward situations. The governor did not notice her expression of disgust and smiled as the fort came into view, and Elizabeth drummed her slender, manicured fingers against the seat, relishing in the idea of her new corset simmering and burning to a crisp. She would like to see what the respectable Commodore would think of that.

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Elizabeth gently stepped from the carriage, her strides short and laden as she flicked open her white fan and flapped the stifling heat into her face. Her arm movements were restricted as well, and she could not relax the position of her shoulders, thrusting her chest out for the entire world to see. No wonder women in London married by the time they were ten and seven. Their bosoms were practically shoved in a man's face, especially if he were at the woman's height.

"Come," Governor Swann said, unaware of his daughter's great discomfort as he led her through the crowds. "We must not be late for a ceremony that I am hosting."

"Oh no," Elizabeth whispered, mocking her father and crinkling her nose. "What a disappointment that would be."

She glided past several spectators, gathering in small throngs to watch the proceedings, and felt their eyes slither over Miss Swann's delicate body, calling her "quite a handsome young lady" and encouraging their sons to request to have an audience with her. She pretended not to hear those gossipy mothers and enduring fathers, but she knew. Day after day a new request would come of her, boys and men wanting to speak with her and create a brilliant match. As if she would endure their phony witty comments. Elizabeth had ultimately stopped laughing at their jests, due to the fact that they were never humorous... or she had heard a better one.

_"Mister Edward Burke would like an audience with Miss Swann, Governor."_

_His eyes would swivel over to Elizabeth, who was usually munching on her breakfast or reading a dastardly novel. She would half-smile and then politely refuse, sometimes with just the shake of her head._

_"Tell Mr. Burke that Miss Swann cannot meet with anyone today. Perhaps we could arrange something later, hm?" His gaze would return to Elizabeth, and she would coyly smile and nod. Yes, it was just another way to evade a conversation. Twenty years old and not yet married. Any longer and she would be considered an "old maid." An old maid who never lived fully? Whoever heard of such a thing?_

Elizabeth separated from her father, sidling into a group of women and greeting them kindly. They complimented Miss Swann on her new dress, admiring the ingenuity of the design and how pretty her hair was today. She smiled and thanked them, even though she could feel their indignant wrath. Not much to say about Miss Swann except for her clothes...After all, her head was filled with silly notions. They had all witnessed them emerge through conversation. But nonetheless, it was only proper to greet and praise the Governor's daughter.

The drums began to pound and the men raised their flutes and string instruments and began to play a lively tune, nothing too loud, but a melody entirely representing the military... Or was it just the navy? Elizabeth could never remember. Ah, that was exactly why politics were not meant for her. The commander shouted a command and the red-coats turned and shifted their muskets without a slight change of face. She rolled her eyes and glanced to the sky. Could it be any hotter? She flapped her fan a little lighter, the warm air only stinging her brown doe-eyes.

"Two paces, march!"

Elizabeth knew he would arrive soon enough. She stared at the long and narrow tunnel created by the musket's elongated weapons and watched the Commodore, James Norrington, stride into the opening, his arms crossed behind his back and his curled wig sitting straightly beneath his tricorne hat. She sighed. He was the one her father thought she was destined for... But he was so unyielding. Never speaking out of turn or crossing the line once. She struggled to find any similarities between them, except for their kind tempers. He was never rash... And she wasn't _as_ rash as she used to be.

"Right about face! Present arms!"

His footsteps were long and elegant, but her gaze was averted to the ground as the sun rose higher into the sky, beating upon her back, seeping through her thin white hat and beads of sweat forming on her forehead. She wiped them quickly away as she heard James' footsteps pass by her, but she was unable to meet his brief glance toward her. Lord, how much longer could one ceremony last?

The corset seemed to cinch tighter beneath the heat, climbing up her back as sweat dribbled between the gaps in the fabric. Her nose scrunched as she bent to the left and then to the right, waving the fan furiously, not even realizing the gallant flips of Commodore Norrington's sword or the proud smile upon her father's face. She continued to writhe and picked up one dainty foot and then the other, her heels suddenly seeming too high, too pressing. Let it be over! Her free hand went to her stomach, gripping her waist futilely and ignoring the stares and glares from other weapons. Did they endure this torture every day? She hoped they didn't. Elizabeth couldn't willingly wish that on anyone.

Then, the soldiers were departing from their ranks, drifting into conversations, and Elizabeth was standing alone. The women had vanished and the men had retreated to their wives' sides, making sure that they would not be swayed by a fluttering foot-soldier. Elizabeth surveyed her surroundings, hoping to find her father or the carriage. Either would help her escape if she whined enough. Elizabeth walked slowly up a short flight of steps, avoiding the towering parasols of a few women as she rested in the shade of the fort and leaned against a supportive stone pillar, inhaling light breaths. Nothing too deep or her lungs burned. Some of the pressure released from her torso, but the heat still clouted her vision. She closed her eyes and then opened them again. A stitched mahogany-brown coat, a cleanly shaven face, a chocolate brown ponytail, and a cherishing smile. Will? Was that him? She stepped away from the pillar and bent slightly at the waist, immediately screeching with pain as her stomach attempted to roll. Elizabeth squinted, the figure coming into focus. No, just another man. Not her secret love.

"Miss Swann?"

She straightened, knowing the proper tone and a little terrified of the voice.

"May I have a moment?"

"Yes," Elizabeth said, flushing as she looped her arm through Commodore Norrington's. "Of course." Dear friend. What surprises would he hold today?


	2. Chapter 2: The Pirate

(OT: I'm soo sorry for the lack of updates! Finals got the better of me this past week and it has just been soo crazy! But now it is summer! Celebrate! So here is Elizabeth being threatened and how Will came to find out about Miss Swann and Jack.

NEXT: Elizabeth's capture/recieves the dress and Jack and Will unite to save fair lady.

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Her muscles clenched in one swift movement as his hot, fiery breath grazed against her cheek and passed into her ear. She had wanted to save the pirate, not die for him.

"Elizabeth...Elizabeth, isn't it?"

His moist chest pressed against her back as she said through grinded teeth, "It's Miss Swann." She felt the chain-links clang against her collar bone as she gradually lowered her tilted chin. Jack slackened his grip ever so slightly, creating room as Elizabeth inhaled sharply.

"Miss Swann," Captain Sparrow said as his feet shifted. "If you'd be so kind."

She hesitated, glancing at the Commodore as he offered the weapons.

"Come, come dear," Jack said. "We don't have all day."

The captain's effects folded against her chest, and Elizabeth was gradually beginning to realize what she was facing. He wanted her to simply attach each piece he lost... but she was less certain of what the favor bode for her.

With one bejeweled hand on her wiry shoulder, the pirate spun Miss Swann around and raised the flintlock pistol to the girl's drenched head. She refused to even so much as glance at the single shot, for that would only make her crumble. Instead, Elizabeth locked gazes with Jack Sparrow, her mouth slightly agape as his steady breathing fell into rhythm with the thumping of her heart.

"Now," he said, his voice soaked and rumbling against her. "If you'll be very kind."

Elizabeth looked down to the weapons and his empty ensemble. She wanted to shriek and shout and slap his smirk away, but the red-coats flaring eyes and her father's constant stare forced her to reconsider, as did the foreboding bullet. Elizabeth reluctantly situated the weapons and slung the leather belt over one arm as she reached up to the plant his tricorne hat, her gaze following the Captain's. He appeared to be enjoying this! She smashed the hat against Jack's head, pressing it down upon his drying dreadlocks and glaring at him malevolently. The twenty year old then separated the baldric's buckle and looped it across the pirate's shoulder, tightening the strap and nearly embracing the man, watching the pistol wobble out of the corner of her eye as her translucent wardrobe scraped against his own layers. She heard him grunt slightly. Elizabeth withdrew and then fastened Jack's belt, cinching his thin waist.

"Easy on the goods, darling," the captain said.

Elizabeth rose into his face, her hands free now. "You're despicable."

"Sticks and stones, love."

_Stick and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me._

Elizabeth would make a point of hurting him the next time around...Especially if she had a pistol or knife in hand.

"I saved your life, you saved mine. We're square."

In the strangest of ways, she could see someone understanding that logic. Perhaps a pirate would be reasonable in that aspect; she'd have to keep that in mind.

His wrists still limply lying against her, Jack swiveled the woman back around, his fingers briefly touching her neck as he tilted the pistol closer to her head. "Gentlemen!" And then a bit softer. "Milady..."

She could feel it growling inside of him. He had nothing to gain from rescuing her, but he did it anyway, and he wasn't going to harm her, and he never had any intention to. That bullet wasn't meant for her; especially if it was his only shot.

He said, "You will always remember this as the day that you almost...caught Captain Jack..." The shackles flung over her head, his hands compressed against her back and then shoved. "Sparrow!"

Elizabeth released a small grunt as she was thrust into Commodore Norrington's arms, and she automatically gripped the man's lapels as the governor briefly patted her back, and she was relieved that it was over...But also wondered how Sparrow planned to escape.

The soldiers charged after the pirate with a thunderous roar, but Jack was already gripping a chain and smacking a lever with his foot before flying into the air. Governor Swann, Elizabeth, and James leapt backward as a cannon crashed through the docks, caving in around a few red-coats as the aimless man began to swing around and around, his muffled screams emerging. Norrington held onto Elizabeth for a moment, but she wanted to see. She wanted to see what he would do. How he would escape the clutches of James Norrington.

The governor shouted, "Now will you shoot him?"

His hands still on Elizabeth, but his mind elsewhere, the Commodore commanded, "Open fire!" The soldiers crouched and aimed their muskets, bullets rocketing into the sky as Jack yelled and flailed. He miraculously landed on his feet on a distant beam, and Elizabeth's eyes widened. How did he manage that?

"On his heels!"

James withdrew from the young woman, stepping forward as Jack looped his shackles over a rope and began to slide into the inner workings of Port Royal, displaying a triumphant stand against authority. Elizabeth was absolutely flabbergasted by the scheme and couldn't imagine conjuring up that sort of plan. She stared after the man, but Norrington turned back, his hand lightly resting upon her thin arm. Elizabeth glanced to his grasp and then to his eager expression. There was nothing that man loved more than good chase.

"Elizabeth, are you—"

"Yes," she nearly shouted, nodding to him and sliding from her father's grip. "I'm all right." He continued to gaze at her, uncertain and wanting to stay near if she was distraught. No need to be the rescuer, James, Elizabeth thought, you have that one covered. "I'm fine! Now go capture him!" Norrington reluctantly accepted the reply and headed off toward his soldiers.

Elizabeth realized she and her father were alone now, save for a few sailors watching the spectacle, and the young woman crossed her arms, biting her lip and wondering where Mr. Sparrow would hide. Surely he had another plan... Or perhaps he just played along with the twists and turns, swept in the wave whether it was crashing or not.

"Here, dear," Governor Swann said. "Take this." He offered Elizabeth his light blue coat and she allowed him to drape it around her shoulders.

"Thank you, Father...And..." Elizabeth desired to put it gently... No, she might as well be frank. "And let that be the last of your fashion advice, please." Huddling in the embroidered jacket, Elizabeth glanced out to the swarming bay, where a dense and eerie fog swathed the surface of the water, hovering closely. A chill vibrated up her spine, and she gulped as her father's comforting arm guided her away from the docks. She hadn't seen the likes of that sort of fog in years...Not since...Could it have been that long ago? The crossing from England, was it? Without thinking, Elizabeth's fingers wrapped around the pirate medallion before bringing both arms to her side, suddenly feeling cold and wanting no one to see the stolen possession.

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"Don't worry, Mr. Thomas," Will Turner said, shaking the man's hand. "Your order will be ready long before then.

"Thank you, Mr. Turner," an elderly fisherman said, patting William lightly on the shoulder.

"Anything I can do to help. You _are_ one of my best customers, Mr. Thomas."

Releasing his hand, Will swiveled on his heels and strode away, his footsteps heavy as he trod down the path, dirt swirling against his white stockings and smudging his black shoes. He no longer cared whether he remained clean or not; the meeting with Elizabeth was over and done with, and he had ruined any chance of seeing her again that day. He had considered attending the ceremony, perhaps gazing at her, even if from afar, and pretending like he was there with her, like Elizabeth Swann would come home with him that night. Home. That was where his muscular legs were leading him now...Or at least what he was forced to consider home from the age of twelve years. With his gaze on the ground, and his eyebrows furrowed at the stiff expression he had witnessed on Elizabeth's face, Will continued to walk through Port Royal's streets, narrowly avoiding women busily sweeping through the market and children squealing for playtime.

"Mr. Turner," a man greeted him, and it brought William out of his reverie, and he studied the gentleman before realizing it was Mr.Gawn, a poor fellow who brought a sword in a month previous.

"Oh," he said softly and then recovered. "Good day."

"Beautiful, isn't it? That Commodore's got an instinct 'bout good days for ceremonies, eh?" Mr. Gawn scratched his balding head briefly, his hands then clasping at his stout stomach, his ragged blouse rising with every breath.

"Yes, he certainly has."

Will hoped to escape the conversation: He needed to have his fingers measuring the width of a blade, sharpening the tip, delivering the finished product, and then returning to the blacksmith shop to practice with his own spare swords. It was the only way he could think straightly...Without interruptions. Without hesitancy in his actions. Weapons gave or took control, and he desperately needed it... Especially today. Especially when he had faced Elizabeth so stupidly, like some drooling mongrel pup. Will suddenly realized Mr. Gawn had been chattering on about the elegant ceremony and all of the arrangements, and he was staring blankly at the man's forehead. He then nodded and gestured, far away from Mr. Gawn.

"I do apologize," Will said, "but I really do need to leave."

"Ah, I understand, lad. Got a bit of work to do, eh? When you going to purchase that shop? Anytime soon?"

Flustered, Will opened and then closed his mouth, appreciating an abrupt distraction. With Mr. Gawn a few feet behind him, William lurched away when an ornamented carriage rattled along the road, skidded to a halt, and then pitched in the opposite direction.

"Wonder what that was about," Will mumbled, cocking his head as he peered around the alleyway and watched the carriage charge toward the fort.

"Must've 'eard about the pirate," Mr. Gawn said. He turned to continue his trek, the conversation about the shop forgotten, but Will grabbed his arm.

"What pirate?"

"You 'aven't 'eard about him?" The tattered man smiled keenly and rubbed both hands together as Will relaxed his grip. "What a devil!" Mr. Gawn faced Will, his hands gesturing wildly as he said, "Down at the docks. Miss Swann nearly drowned, she did! By God! No one thought they'd get to her in time and this bloke plunged in and plucked 'er right out. Turns out it's a pirate, and Lieutenant—Pardon—Commodore Norrington was not happy at all, as you can imagine, and tried to arrest him. Well then, that pirate gets smart with 'im and seized Miss Swann and puts a pistol to 'er head. Didn't do no 'arm though. She was all right, but I bet that carriage is going to pick 'er up." He paused to look after the carriage's scattered trail and he smiled again. "Amazing, isn't it?"

"Yes, yes," Will said, his eyes bulging and his head whirring. "You said Miss Swann was all right though?"

"Most certainly wet and in 'er undergarments...Scandal... Ha! But she's all right. Bit frightened, I imagine."

If Will was right, and he usually was about these things, Elizabeth was most certainly not frightened. She was probably more infuriated that she was used as leverage. "And they caught him?"

"Who? The pirate? Nah. He managed to get away and is running around. Didn't you see the soldiers? They're searching high and low and barging into every building possible."

His lips pressed together, and Will nodded in comprehension. "Really was a fiend then," Will said in an almost inaudible tone before adding, "Once again, I must be going, Mr. Gawn. Have a nice day. And thank you for the um...Information."

"Anytime, Lad!"

Will spun and found himself trotting, practically galloping, into the city. How could he have missed the soldiers? He must have just passed them by, too busy thinking about how he upset Miss Swann when all the while she was in trouble. But he couldn't have done anything for her. Will repeated that in his mind over and over but still felt a certain level of protectiveness over his childhood friend. If someone threatened her, someone was threatening Will. He turned to the left and began to walk down the familiar road, eyeing each man suspiciously, looking for the forms of a scallywag. Will knew it was futile. What did he know of pirates besides what Miss Swann had told him?

Moments later, rows of obedient soldiers marched along, their long guns pointing to the sky and their eyes only focused on their duty. Will stepped aside and then reached for the doorknob, glancing up to that horrible wooden sign.

_Brown_

It should be Turner, he thought.

The young man entered the smithy, turned and latched the door, and then noticed that the smoky-gray donkey was fervently trotting in its regular circle. Will knelt down and stroked the animal's muzzle. Wonder what got into him. He then rose and thrust off his plain, brown jacket, gripping it by the collar as he ducked beneath the machine and tilted his head to one side, looking at Mr. Brown's restful, splayed slumber.

"Right where I left you," he said as he unfastened the top buttons of his stitched vest, wishing that the smithy had better ventilation. He tossed the coat aside and strode away from the lousy, unkempt man, continuing to fiddle with the buttons on his vest. His eyebrows furrowed when he saw his sledgehammer lying on one of the anvils, clearly employed recently.

"Not where I left you," he said. Will eyes twitched and he then spotted a tricorne hat, easily resting not a foot away from the sledge. Someone had been here... He reached for it, but a glistening blade promptly slapped against his hand. His eyes widened as he turned to the rogue. His hair was draped in tousled dreadlocks, his eyes gleamed with the promise of a victim, and his hands were lazily drifting as his gaze squared off with the young blacksmith.

"You're the one they're hunting," Will said, noting his attire and somewhat curious expression. "The pirate."


	3. Chapter 3: Poppet's Predicament

(OT: YAY for any reviews D! Well, I got my order of scenes a little screwed up so the dress bit will more than likely be in the next chapter. I'm still deciding how to portray the Tortuga scene(s) (with the deleted ones and such) Goodness, I keep thinking of moments that we missed in the movie and a viewing of the first movie last night helped too haha. Enjoy! And please review!)

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Will hastily charged back into the streets, his gaze scanning the pirates' victims and the scattered soldiers hither and thither. He then froze, his hand gripping the axe's handle even tauter as Elizabeth lurched forward, dragged by a gang of disheveled pirates. The young woman's flowered robe flapped behind her, and Will watched her beautiful mouth shake in a whisper...In a whisper of his name.

"Elizabeth," he said, stepping forward to chase the grimy criminals.

Why would they want her?

Then again, why _wouldn't _debauched, hideous, and insane pirates want a governor's daughter to torture for ransom?

He then halted when a man that was all too familiar stepped in front of him chuckling, his musty, black face formed in a delighted smile. Didn't Will just kill him not five minutes ago? He tilted his head and squinted, attempting to form an explanation. He was certain he had chucked his axe, the same one that resided in his hand at the moment, into the pirate's back, the man had fallen, the axe was recovered, and Will had moved on.

"Huh-Hello," the pirate half-way stuttered, still laughing as he glanced to Will's feet.

Will then followed the pirate's giddy gaze, only to see a sizzling and flickering black grenade not an inch away from his left foot. He continued to observe the grenade as it fizzled, until the sparks finally stopped flying. He was safe; it was a dud. The pirate frowned as William met his gaze, fully intending on repeating the murder again. As he leaned forward, his weapon rising, Will felt a solid clunk against his head, the world whirled for a moment, and then he was falling into space and crumpling onto the dirt path, the yells and screams and commands drifting farther and farther away. Chase them. Save her. Save Elizabeth. Save...Elizabeth. Save...

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Barbossa turned back to her, his eyes glinting maliciously and now eagerly awaiting a response. Elizabeth clenched her fists as the pirate captain strode toward her, his creased expression so evil and his eyes so empty. He wanted something. The aged man desired something so badly... He could taste it when he was close to Miss Swann.

"And how does a maid come to own a trinket such as that?" he asked, his eyes twitching. "Family heirloom... Perhaps?"

Elizabeth composed herself; she wasn't going to be alarmed by their half-smiles and avid gazes at her nightgown. An agreement was being formed, and she would see to it that those revolting men followed through. "I didn't steal it if that's what you mean."

Barbossa nodded slightly, watching the girl carefully, realizing she was inexperienced but resolute. "Very well then," he said, holding out the palm of his filthy hand. "You hand it over and we put your town to our rudder. And ne'er return."

With her teeth grinding behind her pursed lips, Elizabeth cautiously stared at the man's complacent expression and then glanced to his open palm. If he was lying, she would have nothing else to barter except for her life and her name. But if he was telling the truth, then her feet would be safely back on the ground in no time flat, and she could return to the ruined city with a grand story to narrate. She was naïve, but at least she could retain her poise. Releasing a quavering sigh, the twenty year old gently laid the medallion in Captain Barbossa's palm, the chain clinking against the golden skull as it settled.

The captain's pale, gray eyes were vacant and chilled as he strung the medallion up to his roosted monkey and waved for the animal to leave. With a light screech, the monkey scurried onto a rope overhead and disappeared in the darkness. Barbossa made no move and shouted no orders.

Elizabeth's eyes widened in the realization of her bad decision. Stupid girl. She was so ignorant to believe him! To believe a pirate!

"Our bargain?" she asked, waiting, hoping, and praying for any command to slip off his tongue, but hope barely lingered.

Barbossa turned without a word and nodded to the scowling bo'sun, unyielding in his confident stride and his shoulders rolling with each step as he approached the staircase.

She would not let him just desert her!

"Steal the guns and stow 'em," Bo'sun roared, and his lean, black muscles rippled as the towering man gestured to the crew.

No! Oh... That incompetent, dastardly, horrid _bastard!_

"Wait!" Elizabeth barely glanced at the vessel's scuttling crew before chasing after the captain, a light wind making her thin skirt billow around her legs. He had lied. He had lied to her face without so much as wincing. What person could do that? What moral human being could withstand the guilt burdening his soul? The young woman indignantly stalked after the pirate, intent on returning home, and shouted, "You have to take me to shore! According to the code of the order of the Brethren—"

The captain whipped around, his eyes flickering as he said, "First, your return to shore was not part of our negotiations nor our agreement, so I must do nothing."

Should she jump overboard now or make a break for the gangway? Play along for now? Would they shoot her either way?

"And secondly, you must be a pirate for the pirate's code to apply...And you're not." Elizabeth's unbelieving eyes bulged. This was a story for fantastic novels and children's games, not for her. "And thirdly," he said, almost sarcastically. "The code is more of what you call 'guidelines' than actual rules." He paused, his crooked, dirty teeth jutting forward. "Welcome aboard the Black Pearl, Miss Turner!

She stood speechless, unable to procure a reply or another negotiation as Pintel and Ragetti marched forward and gripped Elizabeth's wiry arms on either side. She immediately writhed in their soiled grasp, releasing a small yelp, but the repulsive, rotting men hauled her backward and then forward.

"Come along, Poppet!" the grinning, stocky man said, nodding to his friend to keep the girl steady.

"Get off me!" Elizabeth thrust her feet and wailed, only making the two men cackle harder and swing her off her feet.

"It won't be long," the skinny fellow muttered in her ear, rubbing his straying eye with his free hand as they stiffened their grip. Elizabeth swiftly realized it was futile to attempt an escape at this point. She felt the black, weathered deck lunge forward as tattered sails hauled wind out of the misty bay, and another scruffy pirate swung open the dark French doors as Elizabeth neared the spacious chamber.

"After you." Pintel chuckled, nodding to release her arms.

With a sidelong glance, Elizabeth grudgingly glided in, promptly hearing the doors clunk and lock behind her. A single candelabra was alight on the great, black table, and Elizabeth plunked down in the nearest chair, crossing her arms and pulsing her slender fingers against her night-garments. What now? Her eyes lifted to the hazily lit square-paned windows, and the young woman rose form her seat and narrowed her eyes as she tentatively strode to the far wall. Avoiding the sprawled objects, she found a bare area and clambered onto the tapered counter and pressed her palms against the window, giving it a slight shove. It did not budge. Elizabeth searched for latches, but alas, the captain's cabin was not built for escaping. Growling, Elizabeth climbed down and walked the length of the room, occasionally admiring the intricate designs upon the carpet. She had to find a way out...She had to return Port Royal, find William, and tell him to... To ask for her hand before it was too late...Before the commodore had a chance to remind Elizabeth of his offer and before anyone knew that he was a...And that she was captured because he was a...Oh!

The woman rubbed her elegant hands down her face, scrunching her cheeks before turning and pacing the room again. If only she hadn't take the medallion those eight years ago but then Will would be here, locked in this room in the same position, perhaps with less hope than she. Elizabeth shook her head. It was better that she was captured instead of Will. Yes, because her father, James, the entire Royal Navy, and maybe even Will Turner would be intent on rescuing her. She was confident in that fact.

But if Will had been captured...Her father would've ignored it. Her nose crinkled at the thought. Of course, she would have fought, but she too would have been disregarded. The matter would become a "lost cause" and forgotten, and James would only focus on helping the city recover from the pirates' attack. Elizabeth resumed her seat at the table, and with her eyes fluttering open and closed, she blankly stared out the foggy windows as the _Black Pearl_ made for the scarlet glow of dawn.

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What's your name?" Jack asked, propped up on his elbows and gazing at the lad who steadily held the wooden bench against the steel gate, a quizzical look upon his face. He'd never known a young man to fight so fervently for a lady. Of course, she was a beauty but worth fighting Barbossa? Eh, perhaps there was advantage in that.

"Will Turner," he answered, his hands writhing against the bench. He curiously watched Jack's expression switch slightly. What was he thinking? _Never trust a pirate_. Will had always learned that, known that...But he had to trust this one, didn't he? If he wanted to save Elizabeth.

"That would be short for William, I imagine." Jack rose to sitting position, strands of straw clinging to his back, and his eyes bouncing from the floor back to Will's handsome face as he said, "Good, strong name. No doubt named for your father, eh?"

"Yes..."

Now, Will wondered, why would that be important? It then connected that Jack Sparrow was a pirate; his father was a merchant sailor... Of course. Jack must have known him at some point. Raided a ship and met him or... Well, he'd ask later.

"Uh-huh." Jack's head tilted slightly. Ah, leverage. "Well, Mr. Turner," he said, climbing to his feet. "I've changed me mind. If you spring me from this cell, I swear on pain of death, I shall take you to the _Black Pearl_ and your bonny lass. Do we have an accord?

Will was wary of Jack's sudden alteration, but... He couldn't idly stand by and let Elizabeth be harassed... Possible murdered by pirates. He nearly shivered at the thought. The man gripped the pirate's offered hand.

"Agreed."

"Agreed. Get me out." Jack wildly waved his hands and watched the young blacksmith step backward and regain his grip upon the bench.

Grimacing as his muscles strained beneath his blouse, Will popped the cell's bolts and lugged it aside, thrusting it out of the way. He stepped aside, making a path for the pirate and hoping Jack wouldn't go back on his word, and heaved out a deep breath.

"Hurry," Will said. "Someone would have heard that."

"Not without my effects!" Jack skipped from the prison and scampered over to the wall's pegs, quickly filing along the possessions. Shackles clanged together as he lifted the flintlock pistol, separating it from his other weapons.

"Why bother with that?" Will asked, his eyebrows furrowing as the reality began to sink in; he would be tried and set to hang if he and Jack were found in the prison, but, once again, no one was more consumed by the loss of the governor's daughter than he. Will had to hasten the man. "You could have escaped if you killed me before, but you weren't willing to use it."

The pirate leveled the pistol, his swathed finger at the trigger and his gaze steady. "Are you advising me that was a mistake?" The boy had some learning to do, but Jack certainly wasn't going to be his mentor willingly.

Will gazed at the man, unafraid but aware that he had started this ordeal, and he would have to climb from it.

"When you've only got one shot," Jack said with a curious grin, realizing that William had no qualms with being shot. Brave and stupid. A coincidental and interesting combination, but an altogether working one if he _did_ learn from Jack. "It's best to wait for the opportune moment. That's wasn't it." Jack lowered his aim. "Nor is this."


	4. Chapter 4: Dig In

(OT: Short one today. No real long explanation. Next up is the cave and Will rescues Elizabeth. I'll be covering E/W's below deck conversation in the next chapter or the one after that... ENJOY!)

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As the two displeased and heavily rouged strumpets tramped off, Jack continued his saunter through Tortuga, weaving through the crowd of swaggering citizens and avoiding the harsh glares of his past lovers.

Kicking out his cane in front of him in a gentleman-like fashion, Jack said, "We should escape this wretched pit as quickly as possible."

Interesting how quickly his view of the city had changed in the past few minutes; it was the bouquet of Tortuga and now it was a pit. Will cocked a half-smile and leaned toward Jack, nearly hollering in his ear, "With a crew?"

"Aye, yes," Jack said, his kohl-masked eyes blazing when he spotted the tavern, the Faithful Bride. "It just so happens that you know a man who knows the man who knows the finest sailors in all of Tortuga."

Is that so? Will wanted to say, but he resisted, realizing if his absolute desire was to save Elizabeth, it would be best to play along with the pirate's ploys. Jack abruptly chucked the shining, black cane aside, and Will easily caught it, glancing at the insignificant cane before handing it to a seated, confounded man nearby, ignoring the gaze of the fluttering woman who stood across from him. Glancing up to the Faithful Bride's emblem of a smiling, manacled woman, Will scowled at the notion that Elizabeth might look exactly like that. He reluctantly followed Jack inside shortly afterward, cautiously watching the incoming brawls and the heat rising in women's faces as they were ushered into pirates' laps. The pub was raging with an even lower level of scum who laughed and jeered at one another without a care in the world. He halted in the middle of the chamber, his eyes scanning the clustered throng, watching for Jack's certain swagger and finally spying the man's tricorne hat bobbing along. He scurried after the pirate and promptly came to a halt when Jack thrust a bucket full of water in his hands.

"What's this for?"

Jack grunted and nodded to the pigsty, where a man with elongated, scruffy sideburns lay, curled up next to enormous hogs and sleeping fitfully in the revolting muck. Was that Mr. Gibbs? Loyal friend and probably the filthiest man William had ever laid eyes upon.

"Him?" Will asked, incredulous as his eyes widened. "He is going to help us find a crew?"

"Mmhm." Jack then pulled back both of his covered arms and sloshed a huge wave of water over the dirty man, who awoke with a start.

The man's eyes flickered open with a fire and he leaned forward and shouted, "Curse you for breathing, you slack-jawed idiot! Mother's love!" Recognition strangled his mouth. "Jack, you should know better than to wake a man when he's sleeping. It's bad luck."

"Ah," Jack said, keeping his gaze level against the man. "Fortunately, I know how to counter it."

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Balancing awkwardly on her tip-toes, Elizabeth gazed out the small windows and watched the full moon sweep over the eerie, black sky as the clouds drifted apart, and beautiful moonlight shrouded the deck of the _Black Pearl_, its permeable sails flapping in the wind as it glided through the waves. She then turned at the sound of the doorknob turning and inhaled deeply, regaining her dignity as she approached the French doors. Pintel and Ragetti stood before her once again, their faces eager. She noticed Pintel's avid grip upon a gown.

"You'll be dining with the cap'n tonight," he said, "and he requests you wear this."

Ha! She'd rather eat alongside a slug. She smiled at the thought, recalling Barbossa's distinct words. _Not but humble pirates._ Yes, but very intelligent unfortunately. "Well," she said, satisfied with her cleverness, "you may tell the captain that I am 'disinclined to acquiesce to his request.'"

Pintel chuckled and glanced to his mate. "He said you'd say that." A malicious grin spread. "And he also said if that be the case, then you'll be dinin' with the crew…And you'll be naked." Ragetti giggled like a little schoolgirl, and Elizabeth quickly snatched the rumpled gown away, pulling it to her chest with a glare as the boys, disappointed and somewhat angry, frowned.

"Fine," Pintel said, turning his back on the young woman and charging out the doorway beside his lanky friend.

Elizabeth waited until the doors were securely closed and then walked to the middle of the room and dropped the heavy, wine-colored dress, allowing it to stretch to the floor. Black, gold-buckled shoes rapidly rolled and plunked on the floor, but the twenty year old didn't bother picking them up. She stared at the build of the dress. It was quite…Different.

The girl examined the short, tapered waist, the sole button along the middle, and gazing down the front, she realized that the polonaise-styled gown also included a single piece shift, much unlike the ones she wore in Port Royal. No use in pulling it out.

Elizabeth fingered the stiff bodice of the maroon gown that formed strange, lapel-like folds and rubbed the attached, black brocade lining between her index and thumb, realizing how rough it was. Hopefully the shift would prevent any irritating scratching. She sighed, realizing she couldn't waste much more time probing the dress, and after draping the pirate garment across a chair, Elizabeth slung the dressing gown off her arms and then allowed the empire-waist nightgown to crumple at her ankles.

Moving aside, she recovered the gown and pressed it against her body, feeling extremely exposed and hoping no one was peering through the slanted windows. After a quick look around, Elizabeth carefully stepped into the bustled skirt, feeling the silky, black petticoat swish against her legs and the shift settle over her hips. As the woman yanked the material over her shoulders, she heard a joyous chuckle and the soft scuffling of feet. Barely breathing, Elizabeth entered the small alcove, pushing back the hanging curtain as she realized a blatant, round hole was positioned in the wall. Someone was watching her the entire time she was dressing! She bent at the waist to gain a better view, but quickly drew back against the wall when she spotted someone's writhing eye. Oh, she'd bet anything that it was those two pirates who just gave her the dress! The girl swiftly surveyed the room and then grabbed a crowbar nearby, drawing back her arm and then plunging it into the hole, hearing a clatter outside the chamber. She smiled, satisfied that there would be no more intrusions and re-entered the main chamber.

The Bo 'sun was supervising the other pirates as they set plate upon plate of food upon the table and Elizabeth stood aside, leaning against the wall as men graciously glided in and out. She gazed at the pure, lovely wine, delicately carved fish and pork, and polished silver, suddenly wondering why Captain Barbossa would have such extravagant food aboard the vessel. She then lifted her eyes, where the captain stood with a sly smile upon his face, appraising Elizabeth in the pirate gown –lovely. The monkey scrambled off his shoulder without a second look at the woman and climbed onto a perch, letting out a brief screech.

"Maid or not, it suits you."

Elizabeth grimaced as she propped one hand on her hip and said, "Dare I ask the fate of its previous owner?" She was certain it was a concubine's dress…Or worse. A woman that he had murdered. A woman that had suffered, like she might.

He tisked at her and ambled toward the lady. "Now, none of that. Please—" He pulled out the chair, she sighed and sat down, and he then leaned over her shoulder, his insipid eyes glinting, "Dig in."


	5. Chapter 5: Escape from Isla de Muerta

(OT: Back from vacation with a new chapter. Ah, the rescue and a little W/E goodness but not a whole lot. This will kick it into gear. Next will be the cabin scene, a battle bit...And possible the start of the island scenes between Jack and Elizabeth. There will be a lot of the rumrunners, due to the fact that I love those scenes, deleted, of my own imagination, and the ones that made it into the film. Enjoy this chapter and review please! Oh, and suggestions are welcome!)

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They were slowly rowing to her death…To Miss Swann's punishment for stealing, for protecting, for stupidly never confronting Will. Elizabeth stared at her bound hands, her lips lightly pressing together as she stared at the rocky shore as pirates clambered to secure the longboats. With torches in hand, pirates scrambled out of the boats after the Captain, following his gallant stride. She rose and glanced to the wet and jagged ground. They expected her to climb out with her hands tied? _Honestly._ Where would she escape to? Elizabeth felt a harsh yank on the braided rope, and she lurched forward, looking to one of her grisly captors with quivering knees.

"Come on!" he growled, not bothering to worry about the lady's dilemma.

Elizabeth stepped onto the shore and abruptly collapsed to her knees, slipping on the moist surface and shrieking softly. She didn't want to seem weak, so the girl tried to recover, but her feet continued to give out, her shoes lacking the proper grips. The man knelt down and clutched onto both her arms tautly, lugging the young woman to her feet with another grumble, their eyes meeting for a moment with equal distaste for each other. Absorbing water, Elizabeth's pleated dress began to drag behind her, and her feet continued to slide across the ground. Gah. She wished she could just kick off the heels, but the men hurried her along with a thunderous roar, flames flickering in the dark caverns. They swerved to the left and stooped low, nearly on their hands and knees as they entered a wider passageway. Elizabeth could barely see one foot in front of the other as the crew rose again, but she continued to stomp, containing her fright and curiosity of what lay ahead. They winded around another corner, and she heard the distinct screech of animals. She dared not look to the ceiling nor did she look to a pirate's holler and wild lashings. He had beaten something threatening. A rat, a bat, a snake…Elizabeth resolved on not asking.

"This way," he said, guiding her down into a wide ravine. At least it was level there and surprisingly dry. She heaved out a deep breath, the maroon bodice and three layers sticking to her perspiring body. Squeezing her eyes shut as she was plastered against a wall, Elizabeth thought of a quick prayer. It was a swift, brief prayer that someone might find her before she turned up like Marie Antoinette, and if they didn't…If they **didn't **find her, she thought with a resilient will, then let her father be all right. Let her father recover. And Will and James. Elizabeth looked around at her surroundings, memories flying through her mind as she walked after the men blindly, ignoring the clunk of pirate boots as she gazed at the illuminated cave. She then leaned forward, gazing at a glinting mound of coins in the distance, the other gold piles lost in darkness. Tilting forward, Elizabeth gasped as she teetered on the edge of a dark, fathomless drop off and balanced for a moment before Captain Barbossa grasped both of her elbows and tugged her back into the crowd.

"Don't dare stray again, Miss. Ye don't want to die and miss Judgement Day— for not even the Lord hisself will look for you down there." The pirate released a light cackle as he shoved Elizabeth back into line and marched into the cave.

Elizabeth's eyes bulged when they entered, masses of treasure sprawled across the area, bits of the bottom submerged in shallow water while others towered almost to the ceiling. Chests of shining coins, gold and silver ingots, glimmering jewels and pearls, varied jade and ivory sections, fine silks, and mirrors and swords were scattered hither and thither, and she could not believe it. It was a cache of riches…And none of it was worth a pence? Elizabeth began to pant when she espied the encrusted chest of Aztec gold, centered in the middle of the chamber with the blurred light cascading over her fate. She stared down at her own necklace, ornamented with the supernatural skull with those glaring, hollow eyes.

"Every last piece," she whispered, recalling Barbossa's words.

"Aye," Barbossa said, confronting the lady. "And not a bit of it any use to us, only hoarded. But it will drive us no longer." He turned to his men and his eyebrows arched as he said, "Bring 'er." Elizabeth felt yet another tug on her bonds and then she started for the giant container, her teeth gritting together as she barreled up the stack and looked out over the men.

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The single longboat floated off the rocky point of Isla de Muerta precariously, but Will didn't care; he could not remove his gaze from the _Black Pearl's_ daunting, empty appearance. Lying at anchor, her sails were furled away, and the deck was vacant except for a few men striding toward the nearest hatch. Out of the corner of his eye Will watched Jack's direct his spyglass across the vessel's mighty exterior, and he didn't like what he saw. A malevolent, pirate look came into Sparrow's eye; one that Will loathed to witness. But he had to know. He had to know if his Elizabeth…No, not his. If Elizabeth was all right.

"Is she there?"

Jack lowered the spyglass and flipped it betwixt his bejeweled hands, sighing without giving anything away. By his silence and the continuous greedy glare, Will's stomach plunged and then rose again. No, she wasn't aboard the _Black Pearl._ And as he squinted, he realized every longboat that should have been hanging steadily in the air were drawn and had vanished.

"Where is she?" His eyebrows furrowed as Jack clinked the spyglass together, tucked it away in his pocket, and gripped the oars.

"It's begun," he said.

Jack began to paddle as anxiety swirled around Will. So then, the blood ritual had started. Elizabeth may be dead by the time they reached her, and yet, Jack kept pumping his arms, leisurely and stably, his face somewhat thoughtful. What was he thinking? What was his plan? If only Jack wasn't so mistrusting…But perhaps Jack had entrusted Will with more information than he even knew. That pirate had a way of doing that. The blacksmith turned in his seat to glance at the _Interceptor_ drifting, and when he swiveled back around to Jack, his eyes widened slightly as he leaned forward.

"What's that?"

The rush of churning waterfall swelled, almost too loud for either to hear another word, and Jack steered the boat toward a small, black cave mouth.

"Depends."

Once again, that did not sound promising. Cautiously and wishing he didn't have to ask, Will said, "On what?"

Jack raised his voice over the flush of water and replied as he guided the longboat a little closer, "On whether the stories are true! If they are, that's a waterfall that spills over at high tide, with a short drop to an underground lagoon. If not—"

Before he could finish, the whooshing water spun the longboat in a tight circle, swilling water over the sides, and the vehicle was suctioned into oblivion, darkness enveloping them all at once.

"Well," Jack said, "too late."

"What do you mean—?" Will flailed backward in the streaking boat, grappling for a grip upon the boat and securing the lantern simultaneously. Water surged around the longboat, swishing them left and right as Jack casually propped his elbows up and watched the spectacle.They charged over a harrowing drop of a short waterfall and were hauled farther into a gorgeous underwater lagoon, the water a shocking, turquoise blue and shallow enough to see the sandy bottom. The longboat floated lazily, and Jack recovered his grip upon the oars as Will steadied himself.

"Hmph," Jack murmured. "Chalk one up for stories."

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"Hurry, get in," Will said, ushering Elizabeth's drenched body into the longboat and managing a feeble smile. Even though her face was still swathed in fear and her hair was awkwardly clustered around her face, the woman still looked absolutely beautiful. He took her hand and helped her into the boat, and then scurried over to the other longboats, his pace quickening by the minute.

"What are you doing?" Elizabeth asked, tilting her head curiously as Will waded in and out of water, chucking some oars into the mouth of the cave and sticking others in their black longboat. She then murmured, "Oh, I see." But the woman swiftly realized he hadn't even heard her question. Clever Will. Hiding the oars. At least it would stall them for a time. But could cursed pirates travel some other way? Teleport? She shivered. Elizabeth didn't want to think about that.

Will then clambered into the boat, grinned at their escape, and grasped the oars, rowing them away from the terrors. She scooted to the edge of the seat, wiping back her hair and not worrying about the silence between them. A light fog was already setting in as they paddled into open water. She spun in her seat and stared at the two giant galleons, smiling when she saw the anchored _Interceptor_.

"Oh, Will," she said, patting one of his clenched fists as she realized that he had somehow gathered a crew. A Navy crew perhaps? And came to save her. She smiled and clasped her hands together.

"How did you do it?" she asked, but he shook his head, grimaced, and lowered his gaze, heat rising in his cheeks. She then whispered the question again, knowing he wouldn't answer her, "How did you do it?"


	6. Chapter 6: Blacksmith's Touch

(OT: All I have to say is that I hope I do this scene and its extra bit justice... Oh and I didn't have time to spell check, but I will do that later and fix if necessary. Enjoy! And review and suggestions for included scenes in the movies or ones made up!)

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Will, steady on his knees, secured the longboat to the _Black Pearl's_ pulley system, his other eye rotating to watch Elizabeth's placid expression. He had seen that look before. The way her eyebrows slightly tilted downward, her eyes blinked a bit faster, and her lower lip slipped in and out of her mouth. She had questions. An abundant number of questions that would be sprung upon him within minutes or seconds. He turned his head to the lady, who was now attempting to wring out her dress.

"Go ahead. I'll follow."

She nodded and then scrunched the maroon, black, and white fabric into her hand, staring at her high heels for a moment. There really wasn't a rational reason to keep them. The governor was sensible enough to think of bringing new garments for her; she had left in her nightgown and robe, after all. She slipped her fingers into the heel and plucked the coordinating shoes off her feet, chucking them into the water shortly afterward.

Will cocked a half grin as she ascended the gangway, but it swiftly disappeared. Elizabeth expected to see officers, red coats, the commodore...And her father. He hadn't thought about that. Will hadn't so much as considered informing Elizabeth of his means of rescuing her before she boarded. After hurrying to secure the opposite side of the boat, he quickly scaled the gangway, listening to her words as she plopped on deck.

"Not more pirates." The black deck felt clammy and hard against her bare feet as she stared at the group of misfit sailors, dressed lazily and showing signs of wear. Oh boy. A whole new set of questions reeled in her mind. A familiar man stepped from the crowd, his eyebrows bouncing at the sight of her. She once knew him...He was a sailor under James...

"Welcome aboard, Miss Elizabeth."

Landing with a soft thud, Will plunked beside her and glanced to the quizzical crew. She is certainly going to be confused, he thought.

"Mr. Gibbs?" Yes, that was him! He told young Miss Swann never to sing that song again and warned her that women were bad luck. Oh! He had fascinated and scared her all the same, but he had been destroyed, hadn't he? Mr. Gibbs had loved swigging from his canteen too much, and he had left, by force, the navy once and for all after they arrived in Port Royal. Then that meant...She was on a pirated vessel. A vessel that once _belonged_ to the navy. No, that couldn't be. Will despised pirates...loathed and hated...He wouldn't—

"Hey, boy," Mr. Gibbs said, his voice warm and inviting. "Where be Jack?"

Elizabeth's head flicked toward Will, flabbergasted. There was only one infamous Jack in these waters.

"Jack?" she clarified, her eyes widening. He teamed up with him. With that ruddy pirate who threatened her. "Jack Sparrow?"

His gaze remained on Gibbs and brushed across the engrossed crew, thinking back to the crime he had committed. But he wasn't going to let himself die for Jack's cause... He felt Elizabeth's eyes boring into him, but he couldn't address her; he just couldn't tell her every loathsome detail.

"He fell behind," he finally said. Will gripped Elizabeth puffy sleeve and then swung around and grasped her other forearm, guiding her away with a great desire to speak to Elizabeth alone.

"Keep to the code!" Gibb's boisterous call echoed through the vessel, and then a pretty African American woman dressed in trousers and a bandana became the captain, signaling the crew as the voices and scurry of nautical terms floated away.

The code. Those who fall behind are left behind. Yes, she had certainly read it but didn't expect it to be true. Elizabeth followed Will's taut hold willingly, growing more and more curious and bewildered as he loosened his grip, knelt down, and slung open a grate hatch.

"This way," Will said, trotting down the steps before turning back to the soaked lady and offering his hand. Elizabeth's lips nearly parted in a smile and she then grasped the tips of his fingers before sliding her hand into his palm. It was an electric feeling as they stood across from each other, dim yet lovely light cascading over Miss Swann's lean figure.

"We can be alone down here," he said.

Elizabeth replied in an appreciative whisper, "Oh, yes."

They silently strode down the wooden staircase hand-in-hand, unable to look into the other's eyes. Elizabeth felt her stomach flip at the intimate touch. He had grabbed her hand in the cave, but he was in a rush, not yearning for the slightest graze of her flesh. Of course, it was not a hug or a kiss, but it meant something. By the way his thumb played with hers and the gentle, occasional pulse, it meant more than any touch before.

Will abruptly slid into the dark chamber, leaving Elizabeth fidgeting at the bottom of the staircase, and then reemerged with a single lit candle, casting flitting shadows across the damp walls. As the young blacksmith glided into the light, Elizabeth realized how much Mr. Turner had grown over the past eight years. He was certainly not that twelve year old boy that was gasping and incredibly nervous. His drenched, white blouse clung to his muscular biceps, and with the candlelight illuminating the contours of his handsome face, she could not resist smiling. He was what she had been dreaming of. A noble pirate who was willing to risk everything to save the one he cared for.

Noting her intrigued, constant gaze, Will gestured to the disarrayed room, feeling very awkward with her eyes pinned to his face. He was alone with Miss Swann... Then he thought, No, he could no longer call her that name. It was Elizabeth for ever more. But every time they were remotely alone, something interrupted them, usually his own stupid remarks. He had to remain composed and keep his head. His gaze suddenly fell to the floor, and he raised the candlelight to Elizabeth's waist, watching a few drops of crimson blood splatter onto the floor.

"Your hand," he said.

"Oh," Elizabeth said, quickly wiping the dribbling wound against her skirt. "I didn't even notice it was bleeding. It doesn't hurt so bad though."

"Good, well, have a seat. We should clean and wrap it nonetheless."

_Stilted._ His words were back to being stilted. With a disgruntled sigh, Elizabeth pulled up a chair with her good hand, hauling it close to a nearby table before doing the same for Will. After Elizabeth sat down, William rummaged through the crates of rifles, pistols, grenades, and gunpowder, searching for something useful besides weapons. He grunted as he shoved a large container aside, only to find barrels and corked bottles of rum instead.

Did they drink anything else? How did they even sail when they're intoxicated? And yet, perhaps the question for Jack Sparrow was how did they NOT sail without rum. He finally located a small toolbox, obviously belonging to the carpenter on board, and withdrew a bundle of (for the most part) sanitary rags and returned to the table, nodding as he offered Elizabeth the fabrics. She didn't take the materials, her gaze entirely focused on bringing that sensitive, caring man back to her.

"Will, why..." she trailed off, glancing down as Will gently grasped her injured hand, pulled it forward, and proceeded to wash the wound. Perhaps he was coming back. "Please tell me. How did you join Jack Sparrow's crew?"

He dabbed at the shallow, long slice, the rag sopping with a horrific red when he was finished. It was a nasty cut, even if it didn't hurt much. Will set the dirty cloth aside and offered a fresh bandage to Elizabeth immediately, his eyes pleading for a small distraction. She wouldn't have it. Even though the young woman clutched onto it, she refused to wrap her hand yet; right now, she wasn't willing to focus on her own pain. She had to know what he went through and why.

"I knew I had to rescue you," he said, still trying to reason with his own thoughts, "and Jack was the way to doing that." He paused, watching her toss the roll of linen fabric from one hand to the other until it finally fell from her hands, rolling halfway across the tabletop. "I helped Jack escape; we stole the _Interceptor_, found a crew in Tortuga, and then searched for you."

"But my father and the commodore. They must be incredibly—"

"Angry?" he interjected, barely able to hold her stare. He couldn't read her expression, probably because she hadn't decided on whether to be disappointed, upset, or furious at him. What if he was wrong to rescue her? Perhaps he should have stayed in the shop, creating underappreciated swords under another man's name as the commodore searched for his future bride.

"I doubt the word will even begin to describe how they feel," she said.

Every word throttled at that point, and Will's gentle brown eyes were downcast as he whispered, "I'm sorry."

"No," she said, leaning forward and reaching out to stroke his resting arm. Elizabeth couldn't let him fall into a pitiful spot again; he had to know she did not see him as a commoner. "Don't be. You rescued me, Will. For that, I should be thanking you for risking everything and for putting your life on the line." Her slender fingers crawled up to his tan face, wiping his cheek with her thumb fondly. "I'm glad you were the one who saved me."

Will smiled, outstretching his hand to grasp her own, drawing it back to the table. "I would do it again, if I had to," he said. "But why did they take you?"

"At first," she said, half-contemplative and half-determined, "I thought it was because I was the governor's daughter." Except, she never actually, feasibly thought that. Estrella suggested it, not her, but it was certainly planted in her mind until she saw the mighty vessel called the _Black Pearl_, her explosive cannons smoking and her ebony colored hull menacing. She had known all along. It was the medallion they were after, not a governor's princess. She then murmured, too low for Will to hear, "But I knew better." Her eyes lifted back to his face as she said, "I gave them your name instead of my own and told Barbossa I was a maid in my father's household. And then, I discovered they needed me to break a horrible curse. One that can only be broken when blood is repaid by every last soul."

"A curse?" He hadn't heard Elizabeth speak of curses or ghost stories since...Well it had to have been when they were ten and four. After that, her father forbid those tall tales, and Will and Elizabeth were hardly friendly once she was introduced to society.

"Yes. I didn't believe it, but now... I saw them, Will. They turn into skeletons."

Her voice was nearly a hiss, and Will leaned into the woman as she straightened, her eyes full of dread of what had occurred. It couldn't be possible, but Elizabeth had never lied to him. So why would she start now? "Jack was going to use me as leverage to get the _Black Pearl_ back into his possession. He needed me to trade my life in exchange for a—"

"A ship," she finished, the pieces finally connecting as she pictured Jack Sparrow's keen smirk if he saw the pair of them, ciphering each step. Oh how proud he might be. Or frustrated. She then whispered, "And to break the curse?"

Will didn't hear her. All he could think about was Jack's clever little scheme. Not so little, actually. Was it worse than he thought? A curse on top of everything, and Elizabeth wrapped in it. But how? It didn't make sense. When had she ever met a pirate? Except for when she encountered...Jack. This was his fault! He dragged her into this mess somehow, and Will was along for the ride. Perhaps he told Barbossa something that made it seem as though Elizabeth was a vital part of the curse. Yes, that would make...No. Jack Sparrow hadn't come in contact with the man. Gibbs affirmed that.

Jack and Barbossa. Betrayal by the first mate. Elizabeth. Cursed pirates. The Black Pearl.

He clenched his fists and then swiped the stress from his face, unable to force the pieces of the puzzle to fall into place. Will heard Elizabeth grapple for the bandages and then proceed to pull a strand out, wrapping it about her hand mindlessly as the blacksmith continued to contemplate the gravity of Barbossa and Jack's plans. He had to gain more information. Perhaps Elizabeth...

"What sort of man trades a man's life for a ship?" she burst, struggling to cover the cut and attempting to avoid making the gash bleed again. Elizabeth had watched Will wrestle with the situation, and he had arrived at nothing. She could tell by the way he gazed at her a moment before answering swiftly.

"Pirate." He grasped her hand, along with the bandage. "Here," he said tenderly, forgetting the curse and Jack and the _Black Pearl_. "Let me." He carefully wrapped her palm, swathing the damaged skin with ease and stringing it around her hand several times.

"Thank you," she said, staring at their intertwined hands. This touch... She would always remember. And she cherished it for what it was. Avoiding what she had revealed and searching for what she had not.

"You said you gave Barbossa my name as yours." He looked up from her delicate, smooth hand. There was a reason she informed him of that fact, and now he had to know. "Why?"

"I don't know." Indeed, she _did _know. William Turner was the one they were after. Although, she would have said his name (instead of her own) without thinking if given the choice. Elizabeth Turner did have a lovely ring to it, and no one could rid the house of scribblings of "Mrs. Turner" faster than her father when she was thirteen years old. She abruptly winced and yanked her hand backward, losing the rough brushing of his fingers for a moment before sliding her hand back into place. His short nails had barely grazed the slice, but it was enough to make her cringe.

"Sorry," he said swiftly, shifting the bandage back into place. "Blacksmith's hands— I know they're rough."

"No." She laughed softly and timidly, her breaths rapid and short. "I mean, yes, they are." She glanced down to Will as he tugged the strands of linen together and knotted the dressing. His eyes lifted in the lapse, his work completed. Elizabeth didn't want his warmth to leave, except she wanted the warmth on her face, not on her hands. And down her neck and back up to her lavish lips until she finally knew what it felt like to belong to Will Turner.

"Don't stop."

"Elizabeth," he said huskily as their eyes locked, tilting into the woman and meeting her in the middle. Their easy breathing fused, bringing the couple closer as his hand swept over her beautiful cheek and glided down to her smooth, unblemished chin. He could practically feel her lips, her hot breath curving over him, and then, his eyes widened as she pulled back, out of his grasp. She gripped his calloused hand, guiding it over her collarbone, down to the arc of her neckline, and then forcing him to clasp onto a hard, cold piece of jewelry. What was she doing? His hand froze at the familiar divots, gazing at her dubiously as she yanked it out of the bodice of her dress and displayed the recognizable gold coin.

"It's yours," she said, removing it with a concise yank. His fingers tenderly curled around it, cradling the Aztec gold as he drew back. She wanted him so much. Too much to let him wander through this circumstances blindly. Almost regretting breaking that satiable moment...She watched him gaze at the medallion, concerned for what this meant, for what trouble it had triggered.

"I thought I lost it the day they rescued me." He caressed the ominous skull with his thumb, unbelieving. It was all that remained after Bootstrap Bill Turner left Will's life, and what unfortunate luck that it turned back up, on a day so dreadful. "It was a gift from my father. He sent it to me." His eyes lost their gleam as he looked back to Elizabeth, angered and frustrated and even relieved. They were never after her.

"Why did you take it?"

"Because I was afraid that you were a pirate." Oh, God. What had Elizabeth done? What had she so stupidly done eight years ago when she was so naïve? Who was she kidding? She was still naïve! Just a girl and maturing as each day passed. If only they hadn't come. If only... She could barely hold his glaring gaze as her voice shook and her heart pounded. She added, near tears, "And that would have been awful." He would have been tried and hung by the next day. At that time, she hadn't doubted the severity of punishment James and her father dealt out. Pirates were wild, vigorous creatures to them. Not humans. Not...William.

He stared at the medallion, looking back and forth to Elizabeth. She knew this entire time. She knew Will was the person they needed. The blood that needed to be repaid, but what protection and risk she had taken, even as a child. What she had caused through her stealing!

"It wasn't your blood they needed." He watched the realization diffuse across her face, the sorrow gone and only concern now looming. "It was my father's blood," he said, clarifying, even though Elizabeth already knew. "My blood." That damn word. He had sworn never to become one, but now look at him. Look at his deeds that made him so unworthy! With blood coursing in his veins that held his fate. He clenched the medallion in his fist, squeezing it sharply against his rough flesh and unable to suppress his rage and grating tone. "The blood of a pirate."

She had destroyed him. She had destroyed all they had come close to or even discovered. "Will," she said, leaning forward. "I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

He could easily forgive her. Yes, Elizabeth was forgivable all through her life because they were trials and tribulations, but this? This was unexpected. And not her fault. But he couldn't lift his eyes. His eyes that now belonged to piracy. Will impulsively slammed the medallion down, flattening the coin, as tears brimmed in the corners of Elizabeth's eyes.

She couldn't stay. She couldn't make him suffer any more nor could she reveal anything further, so Elizabeth rose from her seat, turned away, and stalked back up the staircase, her wrapped hand sliding over her tear-stained face.

Will watched her leave as he released the medallion and stared at the crumpled chain and glittery gold, unable to rise. He hadn't meant to hurt her, just as she hadn't meant to hurt him. But that was their positioning, wasn't it? When would these misunderstanding stop? When could he tell her in quiet and peace of all he felt, and finally know if she felt the same. As he glowered at the medallion, he felt that time was to be a long journey, and Elizabeth was going to be there whether she wanted to or not.


	7. Chapter 7: The Medallion&The Black Pearl

(OT: I hope I get more readers soon...Anyway, this isn't incredibly long chapter. A little insight into the goings on of the battle between the Interceptor and the Pearl from W/E's point of view and then the start of the island scenes with Jack and Elizabeth.

I'll be delving into Jack's thoughts eventually. The second part has to do with after they have walked the plank. The next chapter will consist of Will's thoughts on the matter of Jack and Elizabeth alone and then long, expansive island scenes because it is one of my favorite parts of the movie. Lots of improvisation, cut lines, and deleted scenes. Enjoy! And let me know how you like it! Thanks!)

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A white, blurring smoke engulfed the atmosphere, bullets soaring in all directions and the sound of detonating cannons bouncing within the pirates' ears. The distant shout of the infuriated captain bounded over the smooth waves as the two vessels continued to fire blindly; at times, men cascaded and flipped and spun into the depths, only to be lost to Davy Jones' miserable locker. Her vision blurred and her lungs full of noxious smoke, Elizabeth Swann crouched on the deck, her hands feeling for Will. She knew he was close. Elizabeth heard a grunt as she gripped onto the man's calf and tugged.

Will spun on his heels, his eyes widening at the sight of Elizabeth's squinting eyes and frustrated expression. He knelt beside her, clutching onto a mahogany colored musket and staring at her for a moment, unsure of what to ask or what to say. Did she want protection?

"Find me a gun," she said.

He hesitated, knowing that there was a pile of unclaimed and loaded rifles not ten feet away. He should have expected Elizabeth to want to defend herself and not have a man do it for her. But was she capable?

"Will," she said, "please. I remember what you taught me."

Will's pearly teeth grinded together as he nodded reluctantly, handed Elizabeth his own musket, and promptly slithered away. The man stood up when the annoying fog overwhelmed him, making him hack and cough as he rose. Will searched for the mound of the smoothbore long guns, occasionally feeling along the deck. He had sworn they were right... He suddenly doubled over, toppling before smacking the deck, his face brushing against, none other than, the weapons. Will wondered how those pirates ever maintained any order when dangerous firearms blithely lay around, just waiting to be seized by the enemy.

Mumbling as he rocked on his heels, Will grasped the closest musket and gripped it tautly, using his free hand to wave away the smoke. His eyes then bulged when a medium-sized hand grenade wheeled right past his nose; Will writhed for a moment before dropping the gun and racing several feet away, narrowly missing the sparking, hazardous explosion. Panting in exhaustion of nearly nose-diving into a wreaking pirate, Will retrieved the rifle and charged back through the scattered throng, resisting the urge to call out a curse or Elizabeth's name.

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Feeling the hazy smoke and gunpowder gradually cling and swathe her body, filling her with a sense of anxiety and excitement simultaneously, Elizabeth waited, crawling a few feet away and taking shelter behind the railing and ducking among the rigging. It felt like several minutes had passed...But perhaps it was only one or two. She couldn't be sure.

The woman stared at the cool, silver barrel of the long musket, growing uneasy with a weapon so close at hand. She had been taught to watch the processions of soldiers tossing and tilting and angling these long guns, not firing. Not unless she was in the mansion or out riding with a friend. She remembered how to load it. Yes, years ago, Will had taught her after she pestered him for nearly six months about "knowing how to protect herself in times of grave danger." Elizabeth was beginning to think that was an extremely intuitive and wise choice of hers...Not that she ever predicted she would be in THIS situation. Then, a familiar and scruffy face came barreling toward her, a musket in his hand, and a distressed look upon his face. At least it was someone who could help.

"Mr. Gibbs!" she shouted, setting the gun beside her.

"Eh?" He paused, glanced to the feisty girl, and his eyes narrowed.

"Do you have bullets?" she asked. Perhaps it was the stupid question, but it was worth asking if it kept her alive.

He nodded concisely and stooped next the young woman, offering her about half his pristine, tiny bullets before gesturing to the gunpowder kegs directly next to her.

"Thank you," she whispered, tilting around the man and still watching for Will. Where did he go?

"You don't have a gun?" Mr. Gibbs asked as Elizabeth grasped the ammo eagerly, her gaze still buzzing left and right for Will.

Then, out of the fog, a strapping, slightly mussed figure charged toward the pair, lurched to the floor when a massive amount of men opened fire upon the ship, and then slid the gun across the deck, right in Elizabeth's open palm. He smiled as she gripped it, raised it to her puffed up shoulder, closed one eye, and pulled the black trigger. She wasn't quite sure what prompted her to fire so quickly, not even knowing if the gun was loaded, but it suddenly felt right. What felt so awkward and anxious, now felt perfectly fine with Will nearby. With satisfaction swelling, Elizabeth watched a bullet zing across the railing and then lowered the weapon.

"Now I have two!" she said with a broad grin, acting like a child and feeling the thrill zip around her stomach.

Will then approached in an easier fashion, slinking past Gibbs and situating himself alongside his love. His knees bent awkwardly beneath him, and Elizabeth offered him one of the muskets, following suit as he held the gun to his shoulder and pulled on the trigger, hoping the small ball of fury would hit its mark.

"Thank you," Elizabeth said, nudging Will softly in the ribs before locking eyes with him for a moment. He gave her confidence and brought her heart back into any state of circumstances, and he had to know... If this was their last battle...He had to know.

"And I'm sorry that I kept the medallion from you all these years," she said, forcing him to allow the gun to remain lax in his hands. "But I had no doubt that the Commodore might—"

"It's all right," Will interjected sincerely, smiling slightly. "You were trying to protect me. I couldn't blame anyone for that."

She released a sigh, relieved that everything was so simply settled between her and Will for once in their lives. She hoisted the base of the long gun to her shoulder, directing the musket toward a teetering member of the _Black Pearl's_ crew before thrusting her hand against the trigger, wishing she could watch the bullet sear into the skeleton's invincible form. Elizabeth grasped onto the nearest braided rope, gazing intently as Will slid his weapon through the rigging and fired. She ducked at the abrupt, clinking noise, clutching onto the musket as if her life depended on it, and then struggled to find and keep a grip on the bullets. Elizabeth was growing nervous. The likelihood of death was ever more prevalent as Barbossa hollered more intimidating commands, his sailors so dutiful and loyal to their captain, while the_ Interceptor_ descended into an unmatched position. Shooting silverware and dishes and kegs? The crew would swiftly be on a breaking point, if they weren't on one already.

"What now?" Will asked, glancing to Gibbs as he began to reload his gun, dousing the insides with fresh gunpowder and shoving down a diminutive, black bullet.

"We could use a few more ideas, lass."

As Will raised his musket, squinted, and fired, Elizabeth reloaded her gun, shoving the bullet in and idly glancing at her wrapped hand. She was out of any ideas. Her knowledge of nautical terms and battle tactics could spread part of the ocean but normal humans against a dirty, cursed crew? Well, she had certainly not read anything about that.

"Your turn," she said, issuing the comment to William. He had to think of something! He just had to.

Gibbs muttered, "We need us a devil's dowry."

"We'll give them her!"

Elizabeth abruptly felt the cold barrel of a pistol rubbing against the side of her head, and she froze, unable to scream or say something productive. And there she was, not hours before hoping Anamaria might be someone she could relate to. A woman pirate. And apparently as savage as the rest of the lot.

"She's not what they're after," Will said, resolving the conflict immediately as the African American woman lowered the flintlock pistol, her eyebrows furrowing as she rose and fired her own gun at an intruding sailor. They were after him. After the Turner family's blood. After the medallion.

Elizabeth's thoughts coincided with William's, and her hand patted her chest, searching for the chain or for the curves of the Aztec gold...For that valuable bargaining piece. She reached into décolletage, panic mounting within her as she realized that it was not tucked in her dress nor was it hanging at her neck. No, no, no! That couldn't be. She hadn't left it_...He_ hadn't left it...

"The medallion," she hissed, lifting her eyes to Will's face. He saw the glint in her eye of alarm and rage and upset.

He had to find it.

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The nineteen year old flapped her arms, waving her lithe limbs in smaller and smaller circles as she swung in a wide, spacious circle, creating calm, churning waves around her. The ocean shimmered in the afternoon sunlight, the waves gentle and easing around Elizabeth like a blanket, while Jack Sparrow had disappeared beneath the water. With the swell of the next wave, Elizabeth plunged into the salt water, her eyelashes fluttering open and ignoring the smoldering sensation against her eyes. Ah, it burned! But she had to make sure Sparrow was all right.

She scanned the ocean floor, her eyes looping across beautiful, efflorescent coral and over chunks of seaweed and swaying plants. If not for the situation, it would have been a splendid time to explore. Then, she spotted the dreadlocked man, sinking as he struggled to make it back to the surface, his feet not fully equipped and his hands bound below the belt. Elizabeth thrashed through the whirring current, glancing to his curious eyes before clasping onto his tan wrists and untying his bonds. With bubbles popping from her nose and mouth, Elizabeth flayed through the water and broke the surface, flipping back her golden locks and inhaling slowly and steadily. Jack surfaced beside her within seconds, sucking in air and lifting the weapons above water as much as possible.

"You went back for those?" she asked. A cutlass sword, a single-shot pistol, and a compass. Of all things that a man could save! He could purchase new ones later...Or better yet, steal them! Oh yes. Elizabeth surmised that he was quite good at that.

"We have to head for shore," she said, attempting to bring the man back into focus. Elizabeth began breast-stroking toward the small island, catching the occasional glimpse of a cluster of palm trees rocking and twisting in the breeze, but then halted and spun again, noting the pirate's solemn expression. Her eyes lowered to her own distorted reflection.

He had lost the _Pearl_, and she couldn't bear to say anything. She could not urge a man to move when he had lost his sole, heartrending possession, just as she supposed he could not urge her to move on after losing Will. Perhaps she began to understand. What little a pirate did own, he cherished for what it was worth. And what possessions a pirate lost, he understandably mourned.

As Elizabeth continued to tread water, stroking closer to the pirate, the woman's lips curled in disappointment and regret, knowing the pair could not linger much longer before attracting sea creatures or bumping into a worrisome jellyfish. She placed a hand on his shoulder, somewhat awkwardly, and arched both of her eyebrows. Jack glared at his weapons, especially the pistol, and then turned and nodded, following the woman as she began to swim again.


	8. Chapter 8: Tortured Thoughts

(OT: Sorry for the cut at the end. I wanted to keep it going, but for audience purposes, I decided to go ahead and post it in parts. I tried to make the thoughts somewhat amusing/light at the end. Hopefully it worked. Enjoy!)

The _Black Pearl_ was already underway, and Jack hesitated, watching it float toward the horizon, its brilliant, black sails flapping as the lad and his steadfast crew was led away, more than likely to the brig, while he swam here, next to a governor's daughter. Definitely not according to plan. His boots scraped against the muck as Elizabeth gained her footing immediately, rising as much as possible. Unwise, he thought, but she'd learn quickly to wait—

A wave splashed over her, knocking the woman off her feet. She murmured a curse and then felt a hand gripping her arm, hauling Elizabeth from the water. She didn't say, "Thank you." For some reason, she couldn't will herself to. She merely listened to the turquoise waves lap against the shore as she trudged forward, spinning slowly in the breakers, ankle-deep in water, and staring out to the fathomless sea. What now? Watch and wait to die, she supposed as her arms hung limply at her side, leaning her weight on one foot and popping out her right hip unconsciously.

His _Black Pearl_ was fading into the distance, becoming narrower and narrower until it was a blurry smudge. He threw off his bonds, allowing them to drift back to the sea and then wash back on the beach. This was beyond just being as shame. His ship was tainted by that wretched cursed crew, her once brilliant black sails battered and withered away from a decade of abuse by Captain Barbossa. Still yearning for his comfort, still wanting a new coat and fresh routes. Jack's poor, beautiful vessel. Bitterness did not even begin to explain his feelings.

"That's the second time I've had to watch that man sail away with my ship," he said.

Elizabeth didn't respond. She continued to gaze into the arch of the waves, the glint of the curves, and her chest heaved up and down. She was restless. Will was out there without the slightest bit of hope...Without knowing how much she loved him. And Elizabeth was here with the very man that betrayed and had the spark of horrid schemes. To willingly want to exchange Will for a bloody ship. Gah. Elizabeth had to move away. She sighed and looked to her left and then to her right. Might as well travel counter-clockwise. The woman strode forward, the warm sand making her toes tingle as it seeped over her dainty, bare feet.

At least he was alive and had company. Who was he kidding? He was bloody thankful that a woman was nearby! Of course, two people would certainly deplete the rum cellar a bit faster, but dying with a beautiful woman in his arms was much more preferable to lying next to a mournful William or Mr. Gibbs. He watched her wander aimlessly away, her shift clinging to every curve (to which Jack smiled at) and her path somehow resolute. She needed time alone. Well, so did he. Strolling several feet away, Jack dragged a chunk of brittle driftwood toward him, rolling it upright so that its branches would act as handy pegs to dry his clothing. He swiftly removed his water-laden garments, unbuttoning his vest and shucking off his leather boots before looping them over the branches. After laying out his baldric and compass, Jack plunked onto the gritty sand and withdrew his scarf, staring at the droplets on the flintlock pistol, knowing the gunpowder would be soaked and useless for now.

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Locked in a solitary cell, Will hugged to the bars, tapping his fingers against the iron hinges. He could spring himself from the cell if he had the leverage, but at the moment, there would be no point nor did he have practical supplies. The crew was sleeping or murmuring amongst themselves. Will didn't really care. His mind was full of images of Elizabeth. The look he had seen upon her face before she bounded into the ocean had struck him. He didn't need to hear her say it. Well... Perhaps it would have been nice, but he was mostly assured –almost certain— that she cared for him more deeply than he had ever imagined. If he hadn't been restrained and gagged, he would have done something. Instead he had to watch the Bo'sun thump her unexpectedly into the swirling ocean, lost to that tiny island. However, he had heard gasp when she arose from the gorgeous depths. Elizabeth was alive and still had a chance. Will banged against the damp wall of the _Black Pearl_, his hands plastered against the wood, writhing against the cool realization.

The Navy would be out looking for her, except they wouldn't check deserted islands unless a signal was formed, would they? They would find her! He had to keep telling himself that. Elizabeth would live. That was what mattered all along. And Jack Sparrow...Jack Sparrow would get what he deserved. A nasty image of the pair formed in his mind, forsaken and staring at one another, Elizabeth completely disgusted with the pirate. Jack wouldn't try anything with her; at least, Will hoped he wouldn't. Jack had courted strumpets in Tortuga, aroused Anamaria's interest somehow, and fascinated the fair governor's daughter to some degree, but he had boundaries and a conscience. He was a good man at heart even if he was a deceitful, lying bastard at times. Will's fists crumpled; if Jack could escape the island once, he could do it again. Will had never believed his cock-and-bull story about thrusting sea turtles together, but he had some means of escape, and Elizabeth was intelligent, and she could think of something as well. Will slid down the wall until his rump hit the floor and his calloused fingers combed through his brown, curly locks. They would find a way. He just knew it.

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Elizabeth kicked the hot sand, launching it across the frayed strands of grass and glancing to the bleating sun, its sweltering rays soaking into her fair skin. The island was small; too small to hide from another person. As the woman strode forward, veering slightly with the bend of the island, she felt the coarse grains of sand gathering in the folds of her shift and the salt from the sea clustering in her drying hair. She fanned her hand against her face, but it only blew more hot air against her flesh. Good lord. Had it ever been this hot in the Caribbean? She now did not lament being rid of Barbossa's maroon gown. She would have stripped it off anyway.

Elizabeth knelt down and swept her off-white skirt into her hand, pulling it up to her knees. The edge was still damp, and her stocky legs continued to move her forward. It felt like it was singeing her figure until she finally passed through a place of shade, several palm trees bunched together, their fringed leaves dangling overhead, swaying lightly, and soothing Elizabeth's nerves. She flopped into a seat in the grassy shade, her hands entwining themselves around a fern. She then retracted her hand, realizing that any of the inhabiting plants could be poisonous. The woman tossed her golden locks behind her shoulders, leaning on her kneecaps and staring at the level plane where the water had made a serrated path.

Inexplicably, large tears dribbled down her cheeks, streaking onto her shift and making diminutive, wet marks. She hadn't meant for them to come all at once, but she couldn't help it. She buried her face in her hands. This was her bloody fault. This was Sparrow's fault too. If she had only told Will about the medallion, and if Jack had only dealt a just bargain instead of weaseling his way in and out through his twisted words. She swiped the tears away, and they stopped. She wasn't going to cry and weep like a damsel in distress. Jack was with her, and he had escaped. He had escaped so many people and places and guards that he had to have a plan. Elizabeth rose, scooped up a bundle of her skirt with her left hand, and started at off at a run, slowing when she recalled the blistering oppression above her. She resumed her stride. Elizabeth would make him feel guilty, vent her frustration, and demand his grand scheme, and ready herself to leave the island. Then, as she strolled around the final bend, Elizabeth paused and stared at Jack fiddling with his pistol.

_"You can be the gentleman and shoot the lady and starve to death yourself."_

She had heard those words shortly after she splashed into the ocean and now they reverberated in her mind. Could he do that? Would he have the willpower to shoot Elizabeth if she agitated him enough? No doubt he was capable...But willing was another issue. She halted and squinted at the man in the distance, rolling the black bullet between his fingers, lifting it to the air and then back down. Perhaps if she was shot, she would not have to endure his ponderings and would not have to face Will's ultimate death and the commodore's lasting proposal. She shook her head. What was she thinking? Actually wishing to die rather than escape this wretched island. Elizabeth approached Jack, but his eyes did not even lift to her face. She stared after her footprints that carried across the sand. The footprints that would eternally be there until the island was overtaken by a hurricane or rain or some hostile disaster. She looked back to him.

"Really not all that big, is it?" he said, staring at his pistol.

For a moment, Elizabeth thought he was talking about the bullet. That tiny, black orb of fury that could kill a man in an instant. It was a fascinating thing. She swiftly realized he meant the isle.

"Has it changed since the last time you were here?" she asked. Elizabeth had grown a bit more cautious over the past few minutes. It was best to ease into a confrontation.

"The trees are taller." Jack switched the pistol from one hand to the next, and then gripped the weapon with both hands, finished reconstructing the firearm that would one day murder Hector Barbossa. He had no quarrels with it. None whatsoever after what the bastard put him through. After what he had done to the _Pearl_ and to his freedom. That man deserved to die, just as the crew deserved to be cursed. He wondered where Elizabeth's track of mind of headed. She'd proclaim one thing or another after a while, especially with dear William off breaking the bloody curse. Jack felt her gaze following his bejeweled hands, unphased but curious...Lifting his eyes to her face, he then saw there was not fear. It was pure loathing. Hmph.

"If you're going to shoot me, please do so without delay." Elizabeth had noticed his irritated shifting of the pistol. But she didn't want to die. Not until she knew if Will was alive or dead at Isla de Muerta. Nevertheless, she planned on facing whatever came her way. Perhaps she could slug Jack with that leather boot of his.

The gun went lax in his hands and he leaned forward, draping his arms over his legs. He noticed the fire in her tone. As if he would listen to Barbossa of all people. Shoot a lady. Nay. Not unless she was trying to do him in or if she really was drowning in misery.

"Is there a problem between us, Miss Swann?"

"You were going to tell Barbossa about Will in exchange for a ship," she said, stepping forward. So much for easing into the conflict.

"We could use a ship!" he barked mockingly. Oh, what little this lass knew. The boy was stupid and love-struck and no use to him, and yet he had still tried to protect him in a way. "The fact is, I was going to NOT tell Barbossa about bloody Will in exchange for a ship." He waved his pistol around, watching her face turn and her lip curl. "Because as long as he didn't know about bloody Will," he said, pointing the pistol at his chest, "I had something to bargain with... Which now no one has, thanks to bloody stupid Will."

"Oh," she murmured as Jack rose, swiping the sand from his loose trousers. Elizabeth's gaze dropped, ashamed that she had assumed the worst. Then again, Jack had allowed the estranged couple to assume the worst of him. Guess that was what made him Captain Jack Sparrow.

"Oh," he mocked her again, tucking his pistol in his belt. Now, if only she would sit down and leave him alone. He had to find rum if she wanted to bicker. Rum always made arguments reasonable and tended to sway a lady away from the source of the clash.

Elizabeth stared at the sand, realizing that she had allowed Jack to become as horrible as Barbossa in her mind, and then her gentle, brown eyes lifted, still angry. But he did everything he could to save her from the clutches of those pirates and even so much as to save Jack's.

"He still risked his life to save ours!"

"Ha!" Jack laughed. That was a good one, Miss Elizabeth. Oh yes. Except that the lad saved _your_ life, not mine, he thought. The pirate walked away, his arms swinging and his legs pumping like a prancing horse. Rum. He had to find the rum before he went ballistic on the girl.

Elizabeth pursued the man, ankle-deep in the water and still holding her skirt, chasing after Jack. No! He was not just going to walk away. Where was he going to hide? The other side of the island? It was all within walking distance.

"But we have to do something to rescue him!"

Jack swirled around, his salty breath wafting against her narrow nose, and his wild eyes zipping across the woman. "Off you go then!" he shouted as he flicked his wrists toward Elizabeth. "Let me know how that turns out."


	9. Chapter 9: Truth

(OT: The deleted scenes continue...The next will finish up the deleted scenes and carry on into my own creations. Skip the actual dancing/singing bit between Elizabeth and Jack (unless there are PROTESTS) and then on to Elizabeth's big idea. Of course! Why not burn the island? Haha. Perhaps more Will next time. I hate to leave him out. Let me know what you think! Enjoy!)

Elizabeth stalked after Jack, her hemmed skirt skidding across the lush grass as she swerved around scattered palm trees, following the man's erratic pace. She then grasped the front of her shift again, annoyed by how fast the heat gathered against her thighs. Where was he going? He bounced a few times, pausing as if contemplating where, in fact, he had stored something valuable. So the question wasn't "where." It was "what" was he searching for?

"But you were marooned on this island before then— You said we could escape in the same way you did then." Elizabeth was irritated as she rose up behind his shoulder, her light brown hair fluttering in the breeze. Running away from conflict. The woman had read the stories, seen the incredulous expressions, and witnessed a remarkable escape herself. This wasn't the Jack Sparrow she thought she knew.

"To what point and purpose, Young Missy?" Jack asked, swirling around on his heels and shoving the words in the woman's face. He watched her gritted teeth fall, her eyes staring at him expectantly. For the love of God! What did this girl want from him? A savior. That's what she was looking for. Well, he couldn't provide that at the moment, at least not in the light she sought.

His eyes flared, wishing she would go away. "The _Black Pearl_ is gone and unless you have a rudder and a lot of sails hidden in that bodice—" He glanced down at her thin shift. Hmm…She did have quite the slight yet lovely figure. Jack motioned and continued, "Unlikely— Young Mr. Turner will be dead long before you can reach him."

No, he was not going to dismiss her like that! There was too much at stake. Too many years wasted, biding her time and waiting for William to make his move. It was her turn to maneuver her way into the situation and save Will. Not give up like some coward!

"But you're Captain Jack Sparrow!"

Thank you for reminding me, Miss Swann.

He leaned his covered ear against the trunk of the palm tree, rapping upon the bark lightly. Ah, blessed tree; it was the one. The dreadlocked pirate thrust out one foot and then the other, taking wide, leaping steps.

Her broken nails scraped against the rough bark, finally dragging her body away from the tree. This couldn't be. Jack was, however regrettably, her last hope.

"You vanished from under the eyes of seven agents of the East India Company," she said, careening toward him, fuming and frustrated that he was tramping around while she was actually trying to accomplish something. He pulled his bare, tan feet together and stomped three times, but Elizabeth didn't notice, purely focused on the man's distracted countenance. "You sacked Nassau Port without even firing a shot!" She veered in front of Jack, forcing him to stop jumping. "Are you the pirate I've read about or not?" He stared at the young woman with those composed, brown eyes, but Elizabeth could see he was pretending; Mr. Sparrow was dying to rid himself of the conversation. His eyes softened slighty as she said, quietly and intensely, "How did you escape last time?" She too had heard variations of the story but never had she believed a single one.

Lookie there, dear ol' Jackie. So, the girl really wanted to know about the gritty details of his grand adventures. There was an admiration from her heated tone, and he was partially flattered that she had researched his history as well as believed it. He had to tell her. What other choice was there? She'd annoy him to death, literally, if he didn't get her to move. Both of his ringed fingers curled around her gaunt shoulders, gently steering her aside, away from the trap door. It might crush her, he thought. Actually, it probably would. But rum would solve that.

"Last time, I was here a grand total of three days, all right?" Jack said, unable to contain the irritation from his voice. He didn't enjoy sharing, unless they were fabricated or elaborate stories. This one was simple and horrid.

Elizabeth mouthed the word, "What?" but managed to keep it a whisper, her eyebrows furrowing as the man knelt down and lugged a decrepit handle from the white sand. Three days. Not weeks or months. Not anything vastly complex or interesting. She felt the lies broiling, and she knew they were about to burst, cascading her hope at her feet.

"Last time," he said, effortlessly yanking the trap door up in one quick motion and gripping it until it collapsed, opening the rum cellar. At least it was still well-stocked and awaiting him. "The rumrunners used this island as a cache." He felt her gaze as he descended into the cellar, taking the creaky steps slowly and grappling for the stash of delectable alcohol. "They came by and I was able to barter passage off." Damn. The supply was drastically depleted by years of concealing, and there was probably only enough rum to last a month…Probably more if Elizabeth was stingy about drinking. Although, he actually rather hoped not.

"From the looks of things they've long been out of business." Jack stooped to the dusty floor and quickly sorted through the size of bottles. Two would do for now; he'd retrieve more later. "You probably have your bloody friend, Norrington, to thank for that."

He hoisted a honey brown colored liquid into the air, and Elizabeth stared; she now disbelieved everything she had ever heard or read about the bleedin' pirate. He was….Oh, he was just… Jack was a liar and a cheat and...How had she ever believed him? He scampered from the cellar, one hand gripping an onion bottle, the other gripping the glass container. Her voice quavered as she said, "So that's it then?" Elizabeth bit her lip, feeling tears welling but managing to subdue them. "That's the secret, _grand _adventure of the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow?" She stepped in his face. "You spent three days lying on a beach drinking rum?"

Yep. Ah, the lass finally received what she had wanted. The truth. One day, she'd learn manipulating the truth was a way of living, but for now, he expected an outburst.

"Welcome to the Caribbean, love." He spread both arms, each hand clutching rum. Suddenly, her businesslike stance, her shoulders so pinned back, and her chin jutted forward amused Jack. She might've made a superb cutthroat pirate if she hadn't been born a governor's daughter. Jack pushed past the lady, his shoulder knocking into hers, tacitly offering Elizabeth the bottle, but she refused with her arms still rigidly hanging at her legs.

Elizabeth watched the pirate trod off toward the beach, and she spun and chased right back after the pirate, forgetting the way her dress dragged uncomfortably and ignoring the simmering sensation behind her eyes. He swaggered as if he was already drunk, even though the bottles were still capped, but she still had to run, barely slowed by the random bushes and plant life. She had to convince him to do something for Will. If his escape from the island was simplistic…What about the others she had read so fervently about, lying at night with a single candle towering over her? If the others were true, about the fantastical escapes from other ports, the daring battles at sea… He could do it again. He could recreate the scenario and find a way off this island.

She strode in front of the man, sea foam coiling around the hem of her dress as she said, "So is there any truth to the other stories?"

Jack dropped the bottles and each landed with a soft plunk in the sand. So, the fair maiden was still looking for a romantic pirate's life. The one she had read about. Well, if Elizabeth needed the truth to bring her back to reality, so be it, he thought.

"Truth?" he said, with a austere tinge of irony.

Jack angled down his right arm and flipped up the linen blouse's sleeve, revealing the tattoo of a sparrow, one of the only marks he appreciated, and then twisted his wrist slightly to reveal the pirate brand, its lumped up figure still a brilliant red and seared eternally in his arm. The experience still haunted him occasionally, witnessing Lord Beckett's soundless satisfaction as his flesh burned and sizzled, pain rocketing through his veins. Jack set his jaw as he turned his left arm, revealing the underside and the protruding, branched lightning-like scars zigzagging down his forearm. Elizabeth shied from the old wounds, her face crinkling in shock as he silently swayed and yanked aside the neck of his blouse, displaying the dark brown, powder-burnt scars near his throat. Both could've had killed him, if it hadn't been for advice from that lovely sea witch, Tia Dalma, and some divine care from doting strumpets. But blood. Blood was a cost that was too high, and he refused to look into her eyes and see the hope still vaguely glimmering. Dear William would pay the cost now, as he had with every wound and every lie, and Elizabeth would find that she lived in a world that no longer consisted of luxuries at her fingertips. This was pirate politics. By the code. Or not by the code. Whatever the choice, but someone always had to pay. That was the law. That was the rule at the heart of the code.

"No truth at all."

He crossed his legs and gently eased back into the white sand, recovering one of the fallen bottles and fidgeting with the cork. "We still have a month, maybe more. Keep a weather eye open for passing ships and our chances are fair." Jack plucked out the cork and tipped the bottle, taking a savory, long draft of the liquid. It was uncomfortable for only a moment and then every muscle relaxed and every nerve that was bouncing in annoyance ceased.

That was it, then. Some of the stories were true but escaping Port Royal with the help of Will Turner would be Jack's last. Her locks flipped to the right side as she stared at a man. Not one from her books but the actual pirate, a hopeless bloke who drank rum to forget and enjoy what was presented to him. And how could they live on rum for a month? Perhaps forget they're starving, but…It wasn't the way. She didn't imagine this. She had never imagined something like this. And Will. Her loved one, out there without a sense of optimism either. Couldn't they do something though? Anything?

"And what about Will? We have to do something."

"You're absolutely right." He shoved the cork back into the neck of the bottle and gave it a little push, not watching its swift trail as it bumped against Elizabeth's feet, her eyes entirely empty as she stared at the sinking container. He opened the onion bottle and raised it high. "Here's luck you, Will Turner." He'd need luck where he was headed.


	10. Chapter 10: Between the Lines

(OT: Once again, not a long chapter, but I'm quite happy with this one. End of deleted scene/ cut lines and into my own creations. Next chapter will be partially my own and then back to the genius lines belonging to Ted and Terry. Sorry for the delay and all this week I will be at camp, so you will have to forgive me for the break. Enjoy this one! I hope it lasts you for the week)

As Jack guzzled the brown liquid, defiantly returning her angry gaze behind the bottle, Elizabeth scooped the rum out the washing tide, wiping away the sand before uncorking the bottle. Was there really nothing she could do? Nothing she could say to probe Jack to create an escape as he did before? She supposed there wasn't with those last words of his. She and Will...They were doomed, and she might as well not die of being thirsty. After all, her mouth was quite parched.

She ambled up the slight slope, her gaze drifting over the waving, brilliant green palm trees. Perhaps Jack was on the right track. Perhaps a bit of rum would do her good. She settled into a seat beside Sparrow, her grip tightening around the bottle.

He screwed the cork back into the onion bottle and glanced to the dour lady. "Don't be thinking I'm happy about this," Jack said. "But I see no use in wailing and gnashing my teeth over that which I can do nothing about."

"Not when you can drink instead, at least," Elizabeth retorted, rolling the bottle gently in her palm, watching the fluid swill in a hurricane motion.

"You should try it," he said, cocking a half-grin. He knew she was only seconds away from taking a swig, but she wouldn't admit it. No, definately not the governor's daughter who probably only drank fine, lovely wine. "It goes down rough the first time, but it goes down—and the second swig goes down easier."

Elizabeth stared at the rum. Was there anything left to lose? Besides...She glanced at Jack out of the corner of her eyes. _Besides_ her purity, which she had no intention of blithely giving away. As she raised the glass bottle in her left, bandaged hand, she thought about her experiences from England...Actually, of her mother's silly songs. She smiled. Perhaps with her joyous song about pirates she had brought down the _Black Pearl_ upon herself and had discovered William. If she was a child, she would have thought singing it again would bring back the _Pearl _and her passengers, and although Elizabeth knew better...She couldn't help but try and prove Gibbs' theory.

"Drink up me hearties, yo-ho," she hissed. She tilted the bottle and poured the rum into her mouth, grimacing when the flavor smacked her taste buds and dragged down her throat. Indeed, the first drink was rough and revolting, but it swirled in her stomach and made her heart flutter for a moment.

"What was that, Elizabeth?"

"It's Miss Swann," she growled. Her moist tongue pressed against the sides of her mouth as she lowered the bottle and stared at it once again. She couldn't convince Will to call her Elizabeth and she couldn't get this pirate to stop it. She wasn't certain what the name meant to her, but she knew there was no real point in correcting Jack. She would be stuck on this island with this wild pirate for a long time... But she refused to let the hissing word "forever" enter her mind.

Jack held up both of his hands. No offense, milady, he almost mockingly answered but then stopped. If he wanted to be on the girl's good side, he should certainly listen to her requests.

"Nothing," she whispered. Then, she leaned toward Jack with a sleight grin. "Song I learnt as a child when I actually thought it would be exciting to meet a pirate."

He immediately turned. Jack had heard many songs spouted from and about pirates, but none were suitable for children. From what he had heard, this song sounded promising, even, he dared to think, amusing. He propped one hand on his brown kneecap.

"Let's hear it."

"No."

"Come on," he glanced to the sea, his voice rich with alcohol and life. "We've got the time. Let's have it."

"No," Elizabeth said, staring at the expectant pirate for a moment before looking away, her right hand tapping against the sloshing bottle of rum. She hadn't sung a note since the time when she was fifteen and refused to play or sing to a pianoforte. She always hated the way her voice sounded. Somewhat grating on the high notes and gruff on the low. But a little French wine had convinced her once when she was lingering around Norrington and Will at a public function in the midst of Port Royal's citizens. That was just a foggy memory though. One that neither man dared to remind Elizabeth about, for her tone was more than likely dreadful and her swaggering all the worse. She did not meet Jack's eyes.

"I'd have to have a lot more to drink."

His mouth angled upward, revealing a few of his glistening, gold teeth as he contemplated the image of a sloshed Elizabeth. He'd like to see her wild for once without that business-like tone and glowering eyes, ready for a fight. Feisty was the proper word for the governor's daughter. Yep. That described her perfectly. The onion bottle neared his lips.

"How much more?" he asked, smiling and swigging another drink.

Elizabeth lowered her gaze, disturbed by that seductive smile as she impulsively swigged another sour drink. She shook her head. Too much. Burning in her throat, draining her head of cohesive thoughts. It was pleasurable and torturous at the same time. It was exactly what he wanted though, she thought, to have Miss Swann all to hisself. As Jack resumed his own drinking, she watched a thought flicker across his face. Her reputation was ruined anyway, especially when those high-to-do ladies learned she was trapped on an island with the infamous Jack Sparrow, known for his luring qualities but never accused of any heinous crimes involving them. She had breezed through his crimes at one time, and she didn't recall rape being among them. She hoped, and dared not utter, that Jack would not force Elizabeth to do anything, but if she was willing, Elizabeth would bet her father's fortune that he would take the opportunity.

"You know," she said softly, "you're lucky, Jack."

"Lucky," he repeated dryly, confused by the lady's words.

"You're not trapped."

"Are we not on this island together? Or is the rum making me hallucinate?" he asked half-heartedly, glancing around at the trees and the crashing ocean and her fluttering hair. Her eyes were rotating over him languidly, as if examining a new specimen. He took another swig in response to that eerie stare.

"No, I mean by marriage or a repressive father...Or a corset." She laughed. "You have freedom."

"You're not chained, love."

"I might as well be." Elizabeth tilted back the drink, chugging down the liquid without stopping for several seconds. Her voice gave out when she opened her mouth and then she said, "When I go back...What will be left?"

She still had hope they wouldn't remain on this island, while his own faith in the Royal Navy was dwindling with each and every mouthful of delicious rum.

"The Commodore!" His glass rose in a mock-cheer for the proper, white-wigged man.

"Yes," she said with a slight grunt. "James will remain." She drank again, not wanting to face up to the fact that his proposal lingered and with Will dead... She gulped down the rum and let it carry her toward Jack's world of madness; it was a lovely world without burdensome thoughts and her mind was absorbed in the pirate's drawling tone. It was alluring in a strange way, but James invaded her thoughts, as did Will's fate at Isla de Muerta.

Elizabeth had no excuse NOT to marry James. He was a good man but definitely not the one for her. Will was the man for Elizabeth. She wanted Will to lie beside her at night, and she dreamt of _his_ calloused, stroking hands touching her face and drumming along her hips.

She heaved out a sigh, and Jack was quiet, realizing that it was best to let whatever was bothering her to eat away at Elizabeth until she saw fit to speak or expel it. He just hoped it wasn't in the form of anger.

"I used to dream about pirates," she burst with nothing but bliss in her voice. "Even after all James told me, I still dreamt about them."

The bitterness had washed away and down into her organs, along with the alcohol swilling betwixt her hands, now nearly at the half-way mark. She made quick progress, but Jack was a bit quicker. He liked that. His ears perked up, and the rum coursed through his veins in an absurd rush, making his insides writhe in happiness. Rum is good...Almost as good as the _Pearl._ He wanted to hear these dreams that she obviously found fascinating. Maybe he was involved. Maybe they could fulfill a dream...

"I dreamt of fighting with one and picking his brain. But no matter how many logs I briefed, novels I read, or sailors I bothered, I couldn't find it."

Jack arched one eyebrow. It?

"The trait that separates a pirate from a loyal sailor or fine swordsman." She paused, sighed, and guzzled down the liquid, beginning to wonder how long the bottle would last. "And then I did find it."

"And what is that, Miss Swann?" he asked, now curious and finding her light tone highly entertaining. Her voice was now hauling rum and her knees dropped to the sand as she stretched out her long, tan legs.

"Elizabeth, if you please," she swiftly said, without even meaning to. She had just corrected Jack the opposite way, and she heard a muffled snort from the man. "Rum," she then adjusted. "They have rum." Elizabeth chuckled, tilting back her head. "And those novels!" She staggered to her feet. "They were one extreme or the other. A pirate's life was fantastic or vile, exciting or insufferable. I didn't know what to believe."

"And then you met me," he said in a self-satisfied tone.

"Then I met you." She pointed to him and the drink slopped back and forth against the insides of the container as she began to sway.

"And which side do you lean toward now, Elizabeth?"

A smile quirked at the corners of her mouth, glad to hear her name instead of Miss Swann this or Miss Swann that. She didn't want to be that person. She didn't want to be the governor's precious, pure daughter on this island with Jack Sparrow. She wanted to be Elizabeth Swann, lass and lady.

"Somewhere between the lines, Jack," she said gently, leaning toward him before taking yet another drink. "Now," she said. "I do believe I owe you a song."


	11. Chapter 11: Dancing in the Firelight

(OT: It has been too long. My apologies. Perhaps Willabethers will not be happy, but as you know, this is not J/E pairing. It is rum-pairing at the moment...The next chapter may make W/E fans a bit upset as well... But no worries, mate. I stay within Elizabeth's character. I don't believe Jack and Elizabeth slept together, but perhaps...Well I won't give it away. Enjoy! And a little more night and morning island scenes to come!)

"Aye," Jack said softly, casually tipping the onion bottle back into his mouth and then plugging the bottle.

Elizabeth swayed, digging her toes into the warm, gritty sand as she swigged yet another drink and playfully shifted her hips, sashaying without any hint of reserve. The tune bobbled in her head but was unwilling to emerge just yet. He was watching her, but she closed her eyes and then re-opened them, locking gazes with the pirate for a moment. She stooped low and gathered her off-white skirt into her hand, hoisting it above her knees and revealing her thick, voluptuous thighs and then promptly dropped it, allowing the material to settle and brush more sand about her dainty feet. The woman glanced to the sea, uncertain of what she was doing.

_Taunting him_, a voice in the back of her mind said. She was taunting Jack Sparrow. Challenging him to make a move. But that was ridiculous because she had Will...who was God-knows-where. She tilted the bottle once again and licked her lips, smiling briefly as Jack's eyebrows furrowed. He had to be wondering about her intentions, and she planned on letting him know soon enough. But first, more rum was required. She guzzled the drink until the last drop of the liquid poured onto her tongue and then turned once she saw Jack's admiring expression. Elizabeth stepped into the cool, turquoise waters, her hair flapping around her face as she shoved through the ocean, wading farther and farther in. At the crest of the next wave, Elizabeth plunged beneath the surface, thwarting the swirling current that wanted to coax her back on shore. She reemerged a few yards away, tossing back her golden locks like a beautiful mermaid, her shift drenched and clinging. More waves cascaded toward her, white, whirring foam murmuring her name. She dove again, surfaced, and dove, repeating the process until she was teetering on the edge. One more step and she would drop into deeper depths and perhaps feel coral scrape against her feet. It was a bit of suspense, and it felt all the more enthralling with rum jolting through her veins and racking her mind with crazy thoughts. She glanced over her shoulder alluringly, unconsciously inviting the pirate, and then flashed a cunning smile at the distant man.

Jack rocked on the balls of his feet, observing the lass as she treaded into the ocean, her figure quite off balance as she trudged forward. What the bloody hell was she doing? She was diving closer and closer, until...He definitely remembered where the drop-off was. Where the smooth slope of pebbles and sand descended into glittering depths of glorious coral and an array of sea creatures. He slowly walked toward the shoreline, cautious, as if one false move would be the trigger for the young woman. She smiled at him, and he recognized that smile which he had received many times before, in taverns and pubs. He didn't like that smile on Miss Swann. Part of her allure was not her wantonness; it was her charming way of going about affairs businesslike with a tinge of trickery. Elizabeth abruptly disappeared. His eyes widened as they skimmed the surface, zipping across the white-caps of the crashing waves and searching for her blonde head. He broke into a run, flailing into the water and thinking of her stupidity. Obviously her first time getting drunk...And what if this was an attempt at suicide? Was the whelp really worth all that? Surely Jack's company wasn't that bad. He crossed his hands above his head and thrust into the next wave, diving past the drop-off and into oblivion, the saltwater whipping against his inquisitive, puzzled eyes as he tried to spot the girl's body. He surfaced, swiping the water from his eyes and then heard a deep sigh as Elizabeth popped out of the water beside him, her delicate hands grazing against his arm.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I wanted to swim."

He shook his head, annoyed. Made him come all the way out in the ocean for naught. "You're drunk," he said, waving a bejeweled finger toward the woman.

She chortled and tilted back her head, brushing aside her soaked dirty-blonde locks. "No, you're drunk," she said playfully and accusingly, giggling as she looked around. "It's refreshing isn't it?"

Oh, it wasn't so bad then. The woman was merely sloshed; nothing Jack couldn't handle. The lady floated for a minute, waving her head from side to side before craning back her head, flopping onto her back, and thrusting her hips and long legs toward the surface. Her thin dress billowed around her, to which Jack promptly whapped away from him, trying not to be entangled by the voluminous skirt.

"You thought I would drown. Well, sorry, Captain Sparrow," she said with a smile, "I'm fully capable of taking care of myself. No damsel in distress today."

Jack snorted. Never had he thought of Elizabeth as a damsel in distress, but she certainly wasn't a pirate lass by any means. After all, the lover boy of hers did scout out the lady for a reason, being that no one protected her during the raid on Port Royal. The thought then occurred to him...Why didn't the young Miss Swann not have a guard on watch at all times? He stared at her for a moment. Because she never would've allowed it.

"Oh yes," he said. "You looked quite self-sufficient when you fell off that cliff."

She brushed the matter off her shoulder. "A fluke."

"Ha!" He grunted and recalled that altering moment when he ripped apart her corset. What bloody good were corsets anyway? Women eventually remove them anyway and they only cause extreme pain. "Women," he murmured.

Elizabeth loathed that. When women were labeled as soon as they made one mistake or had one mishap. She launched herself forward, glaring at Jack as he breast-stroked back toward the shallows. She plummeted into the ocean and stretched out both arms, lashing out her little feet as she swam beneath the pirate stealthily, eager to shock the man. Elizabeth burst from the water and attempted to smack his arm, her aim instead shifting to his chest when Jack flinched from the surprise. He laughed lightly at her feeble slap. She growled and pulled back her arm, pitching her fist into his forearm. He glowered mischievously, swimming forward as the pair found their footing. Jack ducked his bare hands under the water, thrusting upward and splashing water into the woman's face. She covered her eyes and squealed.

"No!" she squeaked, lashing out her own spurts of salty water.

Jack and Elizabeth twirled in the shallow depths, ducking and parrying blows of water as they laughed at their own silliness. Her legs flayed in the water with the utmost force, thrusting water into Jack's face. He grabbed her ankles and tugged her underwater, her back scraping against the soft floor as she struggled to resurface. She rose, panting like a dog, and tackled the pirate as she smiled, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders and leaning all of her weight, which wasn't much, onto the man. They screamed as they toppled into the water, both rolling apart and thrashing to the surface with squeals of strange delight.

The alcohol had settled into her body, but the fluid was still rocketing to her brain, sending signals she wasn't aware of, releasing pent up energy and lightheartedness she hadn't experienced since her and Will's escapades in their childhood. She tugged on Jack's transparent sleeve, and he gripped her wiry arm, whipping her far away. He was stronger than she expected, but right as she flailed toward the water, Jack pulled her back, his hand on her waist...And far too close to her hips.

It was tempting to have the woman in his grasp, his pelvis pressed against hers, her lovely, wet hair grazing against his face. He couldn't stop it. Jack's right hand glided down her hip. She turned her head and stared at him. He was see-through, and he could feel Elizabeth crawling inside of him, finding Jack far more than he ever desired. Her smooth hand brushed against his rings and then she slithered out of his grip, leaving the moment behind. She smiled, and he smirked in return as the girl began to walk to the beach, her arms clumsily waving beside her. Elizabeth was still drunk, and he was still a mere Sparrow. She stood chest-deep in water when she swiveled around, combed the clumps of sand and dirt from her hair, and stared to the horizon, where the setting sun was beginning to fade, its orange shafts of light shining off the woman's body, forcing her to squint. He remained beside her, resisting the urge to drape a hand on her shoulder.

"How far do you think they are?"

Not good. Still thinking about dear William. He had to remove that from her mind; it was not for his own benefit but for the lady's. Truly. She would suffer and die from heartbreak rather than starvation or thirst if she didn't stop burdening herself with the thought of Mr. Turner.

"You need more rum." He gestured to the shore, where the two bottles, several feet apart, rested.

"Jack," she said emphatically.

"There's still time, love." Jack wouldn't lie to her. "They won't arrive until late tomorrow."

"Oh," she whispered. Was it good news or bad news? She couldn't decide with another urge on her mind. Drink. He was right. She wanted another drink. She traipsed up the sloping shore, kicking the muck from her toes and wringing out her skirt as she strode forward, knowing Jack was directly behind her. Elizabeth bent down, scooping the empty glass bottle from the soft indention and held it up to the pirate.

"Would you do me a favor?"

Jack arched one eyebrow, curious to the point of hoping that she might offer...Her company that evening. It was a long shot, and he would never press it on the woman, but a man dared to dream when the possibility of dying was near. She chucked the bottle against a gently waving palm tree, listening to the shards shatter and scatter. He stared at the broken bottle and then felt her eyes lift to his face.

"Fetch me another bottle," she said gently.

"As you wish, milady," he said, bowing courteously—well mockingly— to Elizabeth before trotting back toward the bushel of trees and greenery, smiling broadly as he spotted the gaping hatch.

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Elizabeth had no inhibitions as she kilted up her skirt, whirling around the crackling fire as the fiery liquid sloshed in her mouth and at her side, the bottle feeling like a bomb in her hand, ready to ignite her heart at any point. She bent at the waist, dropping her skirt and clasping Jack's hand, hauling the man and his beverage to his feet.

"Dance with me!"

He trotted after the woman as she caroled the tune joyously.

_Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me!_

_We kindle and char and in flame and ignite._

Elizabeth collected the folds of her skirt, twirling on her toes as she laughed gleefully. Jack found that girlish giggle entirely charming and endearing, especially as his bottle's contents emptied.

_Drink up me hearties, yo ho._

_We burn up the city, we're really a fright._

_Drink up me hearties, yo ho!_

Nothing was stopping the drunken castaways from kicking up their heels. She gestured to Jack, and they attempted to clink their glasses together in passing, missing by miles with more chuckles. He paused in stride, swigged a drink, and then circled the flame again, trotting alongside her before lagging behind a few feet.

_We're rascals and scoundrels, we're villains and knaves_

_Drink up me hearties, yo ho!_

_We're devils and black sheep and really bad eggs_

The pair passed one another again, lifting their beverages to one another as Elizabeth whipped her skirt from side to side.

_Drink up me hearties, yo ho! Yo ho!_

"Ouch!" Jack mumbled, barely feeling the surge of prickling pain as he stumbled over a conch shell. It wasn't going to halt this dance, however. One last time.

_Yo ho! A pirate's life for me!_

"I love this song!" he gushed, linking arms with the young woman and spinning sporadically as Elizabeth laughed hysterically, rising up and down the scale of notes, her eyes wild with excitement.

"Really bad eggs!" he sang half-heartedly, teetering as his eyes glazed over. Too much rum. The fire swelled, as did Elizabeth's eyes, and then he felt his knees give way, and he solidly plunked on the ground. He tipped backward but swiftly rose with his drink still intact, as if part of his grimy fingers. He reached up and grabbed Elizabeth by the arm, tugging her to a seat beside her and ignoring the bewildered expression on her face. Obviously she was not certain she was finished singing. He didn't care though. He had to share his plans!

"When I get the _Pearl _back," he declared, "I'm gonna teach it to the whole crew, and we'll sing it all the time!"

That sounded like a marvelous idea, and Elizabeth wanted to be part of it. She leaned into him, feeling his somewhat rancid breath float over her cheeks as his mouth lolled. "And you'll be positively the most fearsome pirate in the Spanish Main."

He gestured emphatically, his eyes whizzing across her and around the tiny island. "Not just the Spanish Main, love! The entire ocean! The entire world!" He pointed to the sea, painting the mighty galleon across the brilliant night sky, the stars aligning in the form of smaller vessels...The making of his very own fleet!

"Wherever we want to go, we'll go. That's what a ship is, you know." She listened intently, staring at him, smiling slightly, admiring the passion for his ship. The glint of any hatred or anger or mischief had vanished and was replaced by a full longing...Nearly a love for a ship so magnificent in his eyes, nothing could ever match it. No woman nor man...Not even another ship.

"It's not just a keel and a hull and a deck and sails," he said. "That's what a ship needs, but what a ship is... what the _Black Pearl_ really is...is freedom."

That was beautiful, she thought. Her head reeled slightly as blood pumped into her brain, trying to register thoughts, but she could only think of relaxing. Her legs were beginning to ache from their water-fight, from the dancing, and from the alcohol. She released his name huskily.

"Jack."

And she leaned against him, lifting her drink as she attempted to gain her balance and then lowering it to her hip as she settled between his shoulder and neck, his figure lithe and warm. Comfortable. She wished she had done this with Will before everything happened. Oh how Elizabeth wished that so many moments had happened between them. She felt Jack relax against her, muscles flinching at the sudden touch but then relishing in the proximity. The lady felt his eyes upon her and realized what anguish this man must have experienced. Losing his first-mate and his lady ship, all in one night. Stranded here with nothing but rum and a single shot. What wasted years he must have spent.

"It must be really terrible for you to be trapped on this island."

"Oh yes," he said. How lovely of her. And how golden her locks looked, better than any treasure at the moment and finer than any jewels. Elizabeth would've made a wonderful pirate lass at another date and time, and he wanted to show her what he felt when the moon was full. He did not feel resentment or ill-will toward Barbossa when he had a drink in hand and a night of glimmering stars; he felt joyous that he deserved and possessed this freedom that his mutinous first-mate did not get to enjoy. And now, her offering was greedily seized as his arm slung around her shoulder and his soiled fingers curled around her thin arm.

"But the company is infinitely better than last time, I think."

Elizabeth squinted at the pressure of his hand, pulsing against her shoulder. Too far. She had moved too close and too far into his realm. And they were drunk...If she had inhaled a bit more liquid, perhaps it would not have fazed the lass, but Jack Sparrow was not that fortunate. It scared her to think that she had almost allowed herself to give herself away like a piece of change.

"The scenery has definitely improved," he continued, oblivious to the woman's horrified response to his motion.

She pulled from his grasp. "Mr. Sparrow!" The name was a little slurred. He hummed, questioning what her next plan of action was. Truth be told, Elizabeth had no idea how to rebuke a man's...request. She said the first thing that came to mind, "I'm not entirely sure that I've had enough rum to allow that kind of talk."

Meaning that more rum equals closer company. Jack pointed to her, his eyes glossy with rum as he squinted and said, "I know exactly what you mean, love." Both hands crept up to his face and he curled his moustache, attempting to allure the lady, but only sporting a humorous expression. She did not laugh though. Elizabeth knew better as his hand wrapped back around her shoulder and then drifted through her tresses, still admiring the flaring golden shimmer of her locks.

She flipped back her hair, straightened, and raised her glass, deciding drinking was an excellent way of distracting Jack from making any more subtle advances. "To freedom," she said almost solemnly.

"To the _Black Pearl_."

The two bottles clanked together, and Jack swiftly chugged the drink, slumping into the sand as his twitching fingers slipped from Elizabeth's upper back. She feigned a swig of her own as the bottle rolled from his hand, the opening at her pouted lips, but she was unwilling to drink to what was almost something incredibly scandalous. She glared at the lifeless form, his arms and legs sprawled as if he was attacked by some wretched beast. She scooted a few feet away, the flames of the flickering fire licking the air as the driftwood snapped and fizzed, singing her a sweet lullaby, reminding her of the starry ships in the dark sky that Jack had conveniently illustrated for her. Her head felt like a separate part of her body so she too fell on her back, setting the bottle aside and gazing without a particular target. If he had consumed a little less, what might he have attempted? If she had drunk a bit more, what might she have accepted? He was a good man, but he dared to adventure to places she would never go. It was too late to contemplate such things about Jack Sparrow though. The fire was teasing her far too much to realistically analyze the captain's mind and soul. Elizabeth rolled on her side, facing the slumbering pirate, and closed her eyes, the last of the rum lulling her to sleep and the echoes of Will's constant notes on propriety bouncing around her mind...Along with his handsome face and her constant nagging that propriety was no always the way to go.


	12. Chapter 12: No Where Near Paradise

(OT: Verging on one of my favorite chapters, and I'm not even sure why. I wanted the end to teeter on the edge of Jack's vexation in the second movie...Obviously. Anyway, don't forget any suggestions are welcomed and thank you for the reviews, once again. Much more to come! Enjoy!)

Elizabeth drifted in a lurid, hazy sleep, the heat of the simmering fire wafting against her agitated figure and the stale rum still pulsing through her system. It lured her.

_Will's hand stroked her silky thigh, his daring eyes dazzling as he rolled into her grasp, his lips inches from her face. Her name was whispered hoarsely. Elizabeth nestled against him, resting her head on the man's muscular chest. Her slender hand slipped into his v-neck ebony-black blouse, and he released a gentle, enticing groan. The lady's smile spread as her hand glided down his waist, nearly to his taut waistband, while the other tugged on her creased, billowing skirt, scrunching the material into her fist before draping one leg tenderly across his._

_"More," she hissed. "Closer."_

A hand enveloped her thin, covered arm, softly towing Elizabeth into a blessed embrace.

"Do you welcome all of your friends like this, love?"

The woman's appalled brown eyes flicked open. Warmth was in her palm…Jack Sparrow's hand, along with his emerald green ring that her broken fingernails fiddled with. He smelled of sweat and delicious sea-salt, with a tinge of peppermint on his blouse…Making Elizabeth briefly wonder where the scent emerged from. Her limbs were numb as she felt his face angle closer to her blonde head. How could she curl up next to him? She refused to think…That a dream carried her away. Sure enough, Elizabeth's right leg was intertwined with Jack's, and he smirked in an elated laughter.

Elizabeth quietly and slowly slithered from his grip that _she_ initiated, praying that she was still in a dream and that Jack wouldn't notice her movements. Go back to sleep, she almost whispered. He released her hand willingly, flesh grazing flesh, and then propped both hands behind his head, watching her with an amused expression. Elizabeth rose, anchoring one hand on her hip and the other in her musty, golden locks.

She looked like an angel, with the embers of the driftwood glowing behind her figure and the darkness surrounding her pretty feet and delicate fingers. Their eyes locked; he couldn't stop foolishly smiling. She wasn't even flustered, he thought. The lass merely seemed a bit embarrassed. With Elizabeth's beautiful fingers laced in her loose tresses, Jack's heavy lids brightened as she rounded up stray branches and prodded the ashes before chucking more wood into the drowsy flames.

"I didn't mean to," she murmured in passing. Her gaze remained on the flowing smoke.

Jack said nothing: He knew Miss Swann had no scandalous intentions for the evening, and he also didn't possess the energy to taunt her heartily.

"It was a dream."

"And the rum." The words caressed his tongue before he could even close his mouth.

Elizabeth swiftly spun around, and they stared at one another again. She could hear her own strange, labored breathing and was entirely uncertain of why her chest felt so constricted, like a corset was squeezing her to unbearable limitations. Then, it struck her. Every suppressed emotion was beginning to rise, and she quickly slung the fallen rum bottle into her hands and then up to her lips, downing the coherent thoughts about her and Will's ultimate fates.

"It's dreadful," she said after a deep draft.

"It's good!" He recovered his own onion bottle and hoisted it into the air before tipping it up. "What?" he asked at her grimace. "Afraid of tarnishing your good name, Miss Swann?

"It doesn't matter."

"Well," he continued, not minding her crestfallen frown. "After this bout with pirates, you're well on your way to becoming one yourself. You already know the code. Now all you have to do is kill your first scallywag and perhaps wield a sword…And you've taken the first step."

She glanced at him. His tone was slurred yet balanced, and he certainly had an unusual air of soberness at this late hour. Her…A pirate? Doubtful. If she did make it back to Port Royal, she would become a wife of the Commodore and ultimately wear that wretched mask of society she so despised. The horrible emotions played across her face before she flopped on the ground, cradling the cocked bottle, and coiled into herself several feet away from the man.

Jack drunkenly observed her slight movements and smiled. She was lovely in that honey glow, and the glistening stars overhead seemed to cast a fascinating feature, even without their magnificent moonlight. Miss Elizabeth Swann, _Will's _Elizabeth, would regret this, he knew. And in that moment, a surge of desire flooded his rum-soaked mindset in a peculiar deluge. A stunning woman was once under his arm and wanting to wrap her legs around him, and he could've allowed her sweet caresses. Alas, his bloody good heart would not comply. And he wouldn't have minded having her…Or not having her. It was a crossed path in his mind when he weighed the level of attraction to this businesslike, fetching woman, his sole companion on the godforsaken spit of land. But the _Pearl _was his gal interminably, but…A nagging thought, but he couldn't help but think about Elizabeth lying so close, yet so far away, and he couldn't be certain if he would have that surreal, intriguing opportune moment with the lass ever again.

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She could no longer resist the painful ache of her calf muscles that urged her to massage her legs or the agonizing throbbing of her head that started at her temples and seared in a zigzag motion to the base of her neck. With one hand supporting her head, Elizabeth stared out to the ocean, once dark and ominous that was now beginning to blush. The brilliant Caribbean sky was inundated in a soft, salmon-pink hue, the bulbous clouds immobile and lined with the lurking orb of great light. Seconds passed and the vivid sun gradually inched over the rim of the tranquil ocean, and the light bounced over the waves and washed over Elizabeth's feet. A smile slinked at the corners of her mouth, and her entire being was directed toward the simplistic view of the horizon.

What did it hold for her? Another day, trapped on an island with the infamous and drunk Captain Jack Sparrow? A seething sun more than likely merely cradled a horrible sunburn and the torture of another day in a place no where near paradise. The sun had now risen high into the sky, and the tiny isle was illuminated. She cautiously crawled toward Jack and eyed his solid, undisturbed slumber on his back. It would be a terrible idea to rouse him. She then scratched her head, ignoring the thudding of the migraine as she gazed dumbly into the fire that someone…More than likely Jack, had once again, stoked.

His words from the awkward encounter still echoed in her mind. A pirate was devious. She had never looked at people as advantageous…As someone to deceive and trick so that she could get exactly what she wanted. And a pirate, unlike herself, would have a plan by now. Jack's scheme was to wait. Well, waiting was not for Elizabeth. She rose and tapped her foot, coarse sand wriggling between her toes. What could Elizabeth do? She clenched her fists as the foggy trail of grey smoke coasted into the palm trees. God! Why was it so hard? After kicking the sand, the woman bent down, gripped the rum bottle that was three-quarters of the way empty, and chucked it into the fire. Elizabeth dodged a massive explosion that rocketed into the air as soon as she tossed the bottle, and an idea began to bob in her mind. The Royal Navy was out to find her. She knew that much, purely from imagining James and her father's immediate reactions. They would spot any sign of distress. It was their job as the Navy to save those in the way of danger…Therefore –Elizabeth grinned— a smoke signal would definitely work.

With her heart and head pounding, Elizabeth galloped through the palm trees and nearly dove into the hatch, exerting every ounce of force left in her body to lug barrel after barrel into the sunlight. She gathered fallen, fringed leaves and spare debris from the beach fire and thrust them into the hefty pile of strong liquor. The lass then grimaced as she wiped her grimy hands across her shift before returning to the beach. Jack lay motionless. She crept around him and pulled a spare bough from the brush, igniting it immediately when she placed it in the almost extinguished fire. She carried the torch carefully toward the alcohol and then hurled the lit branch into the mound, watching it immediately explode into massive, swirling orange and red flames.

Smoke began to rise above the treetops. It was perfect. They would find her and Jack, and Will would be saved. She could not waver in that fact even with the persistent irksome truth that it took three days for the captain to be rescued. Elizabeth grabbed a small cylinder-shaped barrel that had rolled away and flung it into the screaming rum, ducking as the flames curved into the sky and singed the palm trees' leaves. She glanced up, balancing on the balls of her feet and the palms of her hands, waiting for the fire to calm once again, and then heard Jack's wail.

"NO!"

She knew he was thundering after her. She picked up another stray container and added it to the mass as well.

"NOT GOOD! Stop! Not Good!"

Elizabeth whirled around, her arms swinging with black, sooty cinders buried in her hair and coating her off-white shift. His flailing arms were quite comical, but without a smile, she stalked right past his words.

"What are you doing? You've burned all the shade….The food...The rum!"

Her eyebrows were furrowed and her teeth were bared like a rabid dog. It was not the time to question her actions.

"Yes," she said, relieved and happy that the night was finished and in her past. It was not a revolting regret…Just not something she wanted Will or her father to ever know about. "The rum is gone."

"Why is the rum gone?" His eyes searched the back of the woman's head. She whipped around with one concise motion, her hair flapping to one side of her shoulder. Bugger. Bugger. BUGGER. Bad decision, Jack, ol' boy. Very bad! Here came the speech, the lecture, and the consequences of last night. And there was the dramatic fire in her eyes that he hadn't decided whether he liked or not.


	13. Chapter 13: Rescued

(OT: Took me a while to finally write this completely. The lines have been dancing around my head for some times. Rather long. The end is probably my favorite part of this chapter, and the rest I just kinda felt was necessary, but I did enjoy writing some of it. Perhaps you will enjoy it more than I did. Anyway, the next will be an extended Peas in a Pod scene, seeing as I love that scene because it is such a better set-up for the second movie, Elizabeth's escape, and the trio's return to the Dauntless. We are nearing the end my friends! But look forward to what is to come! Enjoy!

P.S. The little note about THE Isla de Muerta in contrast to just Isla de Muerta is something Ted and Terry mentioned on during the POTC: DMC commentary because Keira Knightley called it THE Isla de Muerta when there isn't a the and then later so did Kevin McNally (sp?)... Anyway, just thought I'd add it in since Jack does tend to correct people about his name...Why not the treasure island?)

Elizabeth bounced to her feet as the Royal Navy's longboats were lugged ashore, and she gripped her battered skirt and trotted to meet James Norrington, who eyed her warily. She knew how it must look. A damsel covered in soot, looking sunburnt and disheveled, and of course, her injury stood out as her hands twitched. And that was not even mentioning the fact that Jack Sparrow was scampering around in the background, tugging on his boots and lashing his sash back on his belt before flipping his vest into tidy order. It could look like abuse and rape, but the woman was solid and stared at the Commodore in pure exhilaration as waves lapped against her ankles.

"James," she said. "I knew you'd come."

It was relief, but a brief smile flickered across the man's eyes, as if it were a proclamation of love. Apparently being a savior did have its perks, but Elizabeth didn't intend on sending any skewed messages.

"I'm happy you are—" James' face fell once he observed Jack's jerky fumbling. The naughty pirate glanced up to the white-wigged man and winked, to Elizabeth's great displeasure. Within arms length, the woman smacked him playfully across the shoulder. He backed away with his hands in the air as if he were innocent. Elizabeth could easily scoff _and _agree with the notion in a twisted turn of events.

Just to be on the safe side, Elizabeth whispered, "I'm all right."

She couldn't be certain whether Norrington doubted her purity, but it was plain upon the faces of the soldiers that they were certain that it had been lost and forsaken by the ashes of the fire, willing or not. So much for Miss Swann's reputation. But it wasn't as if it ever mattered to Elizabeth what the people of Port Royal thought.

"Can we go?" she asked impatiently, the soldiers stock-still, awaiting orders and mesmerized as Captain Sparrow swaggered to the woman's side.

"Guess it was a good plan after all," he muttered.

"Yes," James said in his usual official tone. "Of course." He motioned to the nearest longboat, and the woman clutched the skirt to her side, hitching it up to her thighs, and clambered in, but not before Jack's guiding hand slipped under her slender hand. He smirked, and she chuckled at his mock-gentleman like behavior.

"It really doesn't suit you," she teased, forgetting his screams of rage and relishing in the fact that her one-shot plan had worked. She wiped a hand across her forehead, brushing back stray strands of hair and placing a a black smudge near her hairline. Jack chuckled at the mark, but Elizabeth was oblivious as she turned to look at the unfurled sails of the beautiful galleon. They were rescued and soon Will would be close to her, ready for her, and she would be ready for him.

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Norrington had finally accepted and resigned to rescuing Will. Elizabeth had played her cards and had saved her aces, kings, and queens for this moment, even though it would be her downfall into the society she loved. She was now recruited to be the charming hostess of fabulous balls, the lady of the household who instructed the servants, and the woman who admired the blacksmith from afar. She winced slightly in this realization as Gillete and several other soldiers yanked lightly on Jack Sparrow's wrists and guided him toward the helm.

Her new fiance was suddenly at the bottom of the short staircase, his gaze somewhat incoherent as Governor Swann crossed past his daughter and confronted James.

"Commodore," he said, "I must question the wisdom of this."

She had expected her father to intervene. But how would Norrington handle it? She stood without a purpose, unable to convince herself to ask someone to escort her to a washtub and fresh clothing and incapable of squeaking the savage hunger that made her stomach lurch.

"With all due respect, Governor…" James replied, checking this bold statement. But Elizabeth felt confident in his forthcoming answer. "Mr. Turner is a subject of the British Crown and therefore under my protection."

Of course it tasted of the truth, but she knew it was against his instincts and against his conscience to chase after Will Turner, a meager blacksmith's apprentice who had little or no value. Little did the Commodore know how much William had contributed to the sailors and officers of Port Royal!

"Rightly so." Her father smiled slightly. It pained him, she knew, to submit so easily without adding a bit of logical thinking. But once again his daughter had swerved in Norrington's plans. Both of their doting eyes shifted to Elizabeth's squinting form, and she heard him murmur, "Take care of her," before strolling toward his quarters.

The Commodore's rigid, hooked arm shot toward the dirty woman, and she hesitantly accepted the offering as he said her name. It was absolutely insane to act on propriety now, but she still ambled alongside the man and enjoyed the warmth of his gesture. And yet, she wanted to keep her gaze fixed on that horrid island that she had resolved on calling home yesterday or even better yet, she wanted to focus on the waves swirling at the bow. Instead she heard the man's love-sick voice that was masked by his clipped, offical tone. It was like an echo as he spoke. She was hearing herself when she was around Jack. Stern and no funny business. But she couldn't—and didn't—want to be like James in that strict manner of propriety. Her voice should be rich, as it was around her father or Will and even be playful at times. She then realized they had come to a halt, and James was speaking, his full attention directed toward Elizabeth.

"I'm concerned that your answer was perhaps…less than sincere."

She had thought he might question her actions; Norrington knew of her fondness for Will, but whether he thought it was plutonic all along was another matter. Elizabeth steadied the feelings that pulsed through her mind, much like the hangover, and said, "I would not give my word lightly."

He nodded. He didn't believe her: The expression of doubt flashed across his gentle eyes. "Yes, I understand," James said, "But is it so wrong that I would want it given unconditionally?"

Elizabeth wasn't sure how to respond as her musty hands rubbed the railing, seeking the prickly, rough surface as a temporary escape. How could she break his heart? She meant what she had said, but James saw through her. After over a decade of courtship, he finally realized she was transparent when it came to Will. But she had not and would never lie to James. He was a superior man to many in Port Royal and had served her like a faithful, loving friend. That was something she could never forget. So he would be a good husband and Will would be a good blacksmith.

Finally, Elizabeth gathered her words softly. "It is not a condition." She glanced back to the tar-black railing. "It is a request." She kept the pain from her voice, but it ached like a thousand needles had pricked her. A request that she yearned for. Even to have a reason to hug her dear friend, her love, was a great request of anyone. The woman lifted her gaze, and Elizabeth appreciated the twinkle in his eyes. "Your answer would not change mine. You are a fine man, James." She couldn't maintain his gaze; it was too unbearable because she was lying. If the Commodore had said that he no longer wanted Elizabeth as his wife, she would not persist in his attentions nor would she insist that she would be perfect for him. And yet, she looked back to his face and managed a smile, her lips not quite parted. She managed not to allow the tears to brim or to allow the creak of her voice to resonate around the vessel.

James returned the smile, satisfied with Miss Swann's unwavering answer. "Well," he said, almost giddily, "very well then." He stared at the filthy yet lovely lady, obviously imagining his future bride in his extravagant home, accompanied by several children. "Excellent."

The guilt swept through her stomach and then plunged to her toes, leaving completely as they remained standing side-by-side silently. He was a good man, and he could fulfill her desires and make her happy as long as she was willing. So she would marry Commodore James Norrington and be content. She could not doubt that. Not now, not ever. Or she might sink into the temptation of a friendship that was too close or worse, be unable to stifle her feelings for one William Turner. Elizabeth sighed, suddenly aware of her uncomfortable, sand-encrusted shift and her sullied golden locks. She smelled of smoke, sweat, and sea-salt. None of those odors were desirable. And since she has accepted his proposal, why shouldn't she ask another favor of the dashing man before her? After all, would her father not pack proper clothing for a lady? Even if Elizabeth detested wearing a dress, especially when it was likely they would run across dreadful cursed pirates.

Her hands drooped, clasped gently at the waist, and her right eyebrow arched as she asked lightly, "Might I trouble you for something to wear?"

"I'm afraid we do not have any ladies' clothing aboard." So the Royal Navy thought they would find the Governor's daughter dead. "You may seclude yourself in my quarters, if you wish."

Like hell she would. "Then I can wear men's clothing."

"That would hardly be…Proper."

Honestly. Her time had been spent with rotting human beings and men who didn't know the meaning of "acting on ceremony and decorum." She was standing in front of him in a stringy, translucent shift and had spent the night alongside a pirate…And James was worried about being proper?

"Well," she said defiantly. "I'm not going to stay hidden in some cabin... Or I suppose it's going to be heaving bosoms and bare ankles for the remainder of the voyage?"

Exasperated, James fidgeted with his large, trim hands, rubbing his knuckles as he glanced around at the lingering gazes of soldiers. He then grinned, and Elizabeth knew why. This was why he loved her. Her fall from grace was no matter nor was how she commanded herself around men. She cocked a half-smile.

"Thomas," Norrington said to a passing sailor, "take our guest below and find her some clothes."

Elizabeth followed the swift pace of the gentleman, Thomas, who gestured to the gaping hatch not three feet away. The woman refused the offering of his hand, crawling down the ladder and once again hoisting up her unraveling skirt to prevent her from tripping. Thomas pointed to a large, rectangular trunk a few feet away.

"There should be some old uniforms, Miss Swann. Our apologies for not toting any gowns…The outlook was certainly bleak for your rescue."

"Yes," Elizabeth murmured, releasing her skirt and dropping to her knees, "thank you…Thomas, was it?"

"Yes, Madame."

"And where might I change?" she asked.

"The Commodore has made his quarters available, but if you wish to dress here, you will not be disturbed." Thomas elegantly bowed and then turned and clambered back up the wooden ladder, not glancing back at the lady.

Elizabeth's slender fingers traced the embroidered designs of the ocean's swells on the trunk, smiling at the pretty designs on the Navy's possession. She pried at the unlocked latch and the chest creaked open, its contents overflowing with stacks of thick parchment and fluorescent colors of crimson red and brilliant white blouses. She immediately pulled out the items of clothing one after the other, trying on several pairs of black buckle shoes before finding a pair that fit somewhat snugly. Elizabeth crumpled to the floor, flipping up her tattered skirt as she considered skipping the awful white stockings that she not only had to wear with dresses but also with his man's military outfit. Then it occurred to her how her father would react when he saw his precious daughter in trousers where you could actually make out the form of her muscular, tan legs. How scandalous he would make it out be, she thought. So she would wear the stockings.

She unfurled the thin material and stretched it over her dainty feet, rolling it up her calves and to her knees until they were in position. At least the stockings didn't have frilly and itchy pink ribbon sewn at the top. Although it was a humorous thought to ponder those masculine men wearing such silly accents.

At this point, Elizabeth forgot that she was not alone on the vessel and yanked on the beige trousers, fumbling with the buttons below the belt for only a moment before laughing at the awkward positioning. She glanced around the chamber and then heard a giant rip as she lifted the shift over her blonde head. The frayed material split in several pieces, barely hanging on by pitiful threads. She tossed the shift aside, amazed that it had even lasted this long, and then hastily slipped the v-neck blouse over her head. It was far too long, sagging down her legs, so she swiftly tucked it in right as she heard the clunk of leather boots. She turned on her heels as her feet crawled into the stiff shoes, and she smiled at the sight of Jack.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," he said with a smirk.

"Just arrived then?" Elizabeth asked, leveling with the pirate. He hadn't seen anything, or he would've taunted her more with a far wider smile.

"I think I prefer you in a dress, Miss Swann."

She was unfazed by the bold comment; she came to expect no less than jokes from the man. So she corrected him instead. And this time she was certain of the decision. "I thought I told you to call me Elizabeth."

"Very well," he said, circling the woman as she looped the crimson jacket over her arms. "Yes, much better in a dress. You look like an enemy in that ensemble."

She began to fasten the silver buttons but then stopped, realizing it was rather pointless. He was such a coy man but silly all the same. Sometimes she thought he was still a teenage boy, just looking for a game to play. "Perhaps I am your enemy…" she said, lunging toward Jack as if she held a sword. He chuckled. "So we're on our way to the Isla de Muerta then?"

"Not _the_, love. Just Isla de Muerta."

"Are our chances fair?" Elizabeth almost hissed, the image of Will's death floating into her mind.

"Our chances are about as good as we had on that godforsaken spit of land we were forced upon."

Elizabeth wasn't even certain what that meant. With the fire, their chances were enhanced, and the pair had been saved, but the previous day, their chances were slim to none, no matter what Jack said. Thus, Elizabeth concluded that they were still between those lines that had been drawn on the rumrunner's island, and she could do nothing about it.

"Don't lie to me, Jack."

"Never, love."

"I'm serious." She paused, wondering if she really wanted to know the answer. "Does Will…Do you think he will make it?"

"I have a plan." It was a solid reply. Nothing fishy. Not bait. Simple and easy to remember.

"That doesn't answer my question." Elizabeth stepped forward and grabbed his coated arm impulsively, locking eyes with the pirate. She had to know. Was this hazardous journey just for Jack's sake or would it benefit Will and her own life as well?

"But I do have a plan," he said. Jack smirked again with that mysterious air, but Elizabeth wouldn't release his arm. She was his for now, until he spit out his so called scheme. She imagined it would twist and fail, but at least this way she would know what to expect.

"Mr. Sparrow!" Gillete's voice trailed down the hatch, light shrouding Elizabeth and Jack's still figures, her nose so close to Jack, the scene could've easily been misinterpreted as a clandestine meeting of forbidden lovers.

"Jack," she said sternly. She wanted the truth. No swerving direction. Just a straight and narrow path to Will Turner.

"No worries, Elizabeth." He winked at her and then scampered up the ladder, gone as quickly as he had arrived.


	14. Chapter 14: Suspended

(OT: Another one of my favorite chapters. I extended the Peas in a Pod scene to 2 1/2 pages by one in the morning and decided that it needed to be alone as a chapter, instead of being blended in with the actual arrival and Will's re-entrance into the fic. So here she be, verging on J/E goodness...I know. I know. But I've longed to connect this even farther to Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest so that their actions are more clarified and more confusing all the same...I like Elizabeth's final thoughts on the matter (SPOILER: Her dismissal because those emotions rise again in DMC if you were blindfolded and your ears were plugged in the movie (j/k)) I also like the ending with Norrington and Jack. I found it to be a humorous image. Let me know what YOU think.

And to answer your question about carrying on into the next two films, check out my other fanfic called, "When the Rain Began to Fall." It is a combination of the Dead Man's Chest and At World's End with the deleted scenes and plenty pieces of my own creation :D. As a side note, I think you can actually see my progression as a writer though that fic as well, even concerning punctuation.

So enjoy! And thank you for all of the reviews!)

After much persuasion, Elizabeth had finally obtained several canteens of pure, cleansing water, and she had promptly found a bucket to act as her bath. For the next few hours, she scrubbed every last inch of dirt and grime from her body and smudged face, laughing at the sooty mark across her forehead that Jack had alluded to hours before. He really should've said something, but instead she had looked ridiculous, which wasn't such a bizarre thing considering she was wearing a soldier's uniform.

The woman thought a tidy bun would inspire much ridicule from the pirate as well as look entirely silly, so she merely twirled a bundle of hair on either side, tugged back the silky tresses, and then pinned the pieces to the back of her head. Surely it would slip from the pin within hours, if not minutes, by the way she had been running around the ship asking about coordinates and pestering the Commodore with far to many questions, but now the glistening white moon had slipped into the sky, illuminating the ship in a hazy glow. All would quiet down. She crawled back up the ladder, leaving the lantern behind, and strolled out on deck, passing by none other than the infamous Jack Sparrow.

He barely nodded to Elizabeth as her pretty hand brushed against the railing. She then halted, and Jack could see something simmering in the girl's mind. It wouldn't be long before…

"This is quietest you have been, Jack," she said.

Yep, there she chimed.

"It must be a record." She smiled, raking both hands against the railing, once again using it as an escape.

"I don't take Norrington's word lightly."

"Good," she said, nodding in agreement. "I don't want to see you in the brig."

His eyes softened and the glitz rushed back into his face as he snaked forward. "Growing fond of me, are you?"

She scoffed and shook her head. "A lot worse men deserved to be imprisoned and hanged. I merely consider you at the bottom of the list."

Jack smirked. He would call that some bit of fondness; apparently he _had _made a difference on that ruddy island.

"A compliment then."

"Oh, Jack," she whispered gently. She didn't want to imagine the horrors they would face once they reached Isla de Muerta…Or what Jack and Will would have to battle. "You plan to murder him, don't you?" It was a rhetorical question. "I want to be there."

The man's tongue clicked at her immediate, burning voice. It had such a poisonous sting, one Jack wouldn't mind tasting, but he managed to say lightly, "Far too dangerous for a lady, if you ask me."

She would be there. She would see Will one final time, maybe even fight alongside him. From the time she was twelve years old Elizabeth had noticed the maneuvers and thwarting blows Will and James performed on a day to day basis, especially when Will began to seriously practice sword-fighting. She would always be the weakling in their play-combat, but at least she was allowed to watch and participate. She was no where near as equipped as Jack, even if he were intoxicated beyond belief, but she could parry certain tactics and wasn't frightened of running a man through….That is, as long as the man deserved it. She left the wicked to be punished by God, but for the ones that veered in her or Will's way, she would slash them to tiny fragments. Glancing to Jack's solid stature, his arms crossed behind his back and his attire in its strange, eclectic order, Elizabeth realized that Jack now, rightfully, valued her skills. She knew how to plan just as well as he did and building the fire and burning the food, the shade, and the rum was concrete proof of that.

"And I might interfere," she said, tilting up her chin.

"Something like that." Or rather,_ exactly_ like that. Miss Swann was too cunning to risk having her in the longboat…Besides to bargain with Barbossa she certainly couldn't be present. She would see his every plan as transparent…As transparent as her shift…Jack smiled at the thought before shaking his head at the distraction.

"But you can do that? Can you just— Just stab him without a single scruple?"

"You learn indifference," he said nonchalantly, gliding back over to his station which was safely several feet away from Elizabeth. He couldn't help moving closer though, which was a curse and a blessing because Elizabeth never seemed to reject him completely or even toy with him. She was straightforward, which was one thing that made him drawn to her company.

"How many people have you killed?" It was a question that had drifted through her mind many times, but she had never gathered enough nerve to blatantly ask it. She had once wondered if that was what all those intricate, varied beads stood for. Lives lost, people saved, perhaps even souls that he deeply cared about. But Elizabeth still couldn't muster the courage to ask him that. For all she knew those beads and strange trinkets stood merely for his travels…or even ladies he cavorted with.

"I don't keep a tally."

With one hand on the railing, Elizabeth turned to the pirate and pulled out, feeling the resistance as she balanced on her single grip for a moment. "You choose not to count or at least you pretend not to." She lowered her voice and her chin, staring at him directly. "Can't we be frank with one another, Jack? Or are we still that different?"

"Love," he said, clearing his throat before continuing, "The only man that will be worth counting is Hector Barbossa."

Elizabeth nodded in understanding. His mutinous first-mate. Jack probably even considered Barbossa his friend. What an awful word it would seem to him. _Friends_. Perhaps he considered Mr. Gibbs one…Then again, she had to take in account the Pirate Code, one which many abided by and others rebuked. She recalled how close Jack had played every scheme to his vest, that is, up until now, and she immediately knew the gears were crunching figures in his head, weighing his gains and losses and preparing something fantastic. Hopefully he would not fall on his face; although those moments when Jack messed up could crack a smile every once and while. She couldn't forget the encounter she had read about Jack pretending to be a cleric in England... She wished she had been there.

Elizabeth had loitered in the Commodore's presence whenever Jack was instructing the man or offering advice, and she realized through the entire day, even as the sun settled into the rim of the ocean, he had never spoken of the _Black Pearl's_ invincible crew. Jack had an abundant number of chances to expel the truth, and he had kept quiet. For Will's sake? For her own? The same form of question seemed to flicker frequently over the past few days.

She gazed out to the sea, the surface swarming with unique sea creatures that skimmed the surface and plants that had developed several feet, flapping above the misty fog that hung like death over the water. The clammy, moist haze had risen in the air, and Elizabeth could feel it swirl around her, much like the gunpowder had during the vicious battle between the two ships. And yet, the _Dauntless _continued to glide effortlessly, her linen sails barely rumpled in the wind but somehow moving the large vessel faster than usual. Jack Sparrow certainly did know how to steer ships. He seemed to always know when the wind would turn on them, when the rain would fall, and when the lady ship was at her best. It was far deeper than intuition...But not close enough to predicting the future. It seemed, she pondered, he also had a way with her, which Elizabeth appreciated and regretted. It meant that he saw her in lonely, vulnerable times as well as times when she was available with plenty of quips. As she gazed back to the fluttering sea, marveling as a school of fish flitted through a shallow mound of sand, she clenched the railing in her hands.

"You didn't tell him about the curse," she almost whispered and rocked back and forth on her toes.

"I noticed neither did you," Jack replied steadily, tilting back toward the girl. "For the same reason, I imagine." She was worried. It had seeped into her voice within seconds, and it ruined these past moments of light talk, even of murdering someone when he was still able to joke. Perhaps he could sneak one in and give Miss Swann something to think about, but he didn't count on it.

Elizabeth stared down into the serene sea again and then raised her head, her teeth gritted and the thought of Norrington flipping the boat upside down to run back to Port Royal flashing through her mind; it wasn't a pretty image.

"He wouldn't have risked it." And Will's insipid corpse would have been lost to the shallows of Isla de Muerta, a fate she didn't wish for anyone; not even Barbossa.

Jack Sparrow was never one to pass up an opportunity. "You could've gotten him drunk." Seemed that was always a way to persuade a man…or a woman for that matter. He smirked gleefully, pleased with himself, but Elizabeth's head swiftly whipped toward him. The lass wasn't in a very appreciative mood, and he could almost see guilt leaking from her eyes.

At the time, Elizabeth had had no scruples or even the slightest thoughts of how she might hurt Jack by being rescued by the Royal Navy. She only thought of Will's dank and dark future, and Jack's incoherent ramblings. If they had been trapped on that island for more than a week, they would have eaten each other alive, so she did what she had to and took a great leap of faith.

"Don't get me wrong, love," he said, deciding that it was his duty to straighten her out on a pirate's way of thinking. Jack's head bowed, his murky, decisive eyes squinted, and he almost bounced in place as he said, "I admire a person who is willing to do whatever is necessary." He smiled and saw his expression mirrored. Perfect and beautiful was how she looked in that dashing moonlight. If it was any other girl, he might've teasingly invited her to the captain's quarters, but alas, it wasn't his ship and Elizabeth wasn't an ordinary woman.

"You're a smart man, Jack." His eyes were leveling with her, almost singing their own tune and reminding her of their proximity on the rumrunner's island. Mr. Sparrow was a good, intelligent man but never would she share every secret with him or offer anything that could be used to his advantage. She wouldn't fall into any of his tricks like Will did; she wouldn't allow herself to. A voice hissed in the back of her head, _But what about in desperation? He would help, just like he is helping with William._ Elizabeth knew she had to voice it; she had to tell him exactly what she was thinking.

With that venomous tongue Elizabeth said, "But I don't entirely trust you."

And I with you, Jack thought. With his arms relaxed at his sides, bearing no emotion or swagger, Jack walked toward the lady; he was close enough to absorb her sweet scent of soap and a strange perfume. He leaned into her delicate countenance, considering touching her face before waving his index finger between them.

"Peas in a pod, darling."

Her eyes corralled into one corner as her head tilted, feeling his breath, for once untainted and without a dash of rum or reeking of horrible scent, and they were suspended in that moment. Simply gazing at one another. He looked like an oracle with his swift half-smile that made his gold teeth glimmer. She wanted to pull back and simultaneously wanted to discover what he meant. He didn't trust her and she didn't trust him, but there was more to it. She could see by the way he stared at her, waiting for the next inquiry or a harsh retort. Just waiting.

She then flinched and stared back down at the cold, hard railing when James strode toward the pair, her eyes almost fluttering closing. What was she doing? What was she waiting for in those moments? Elizabeth had no idea, except that that her heart was pounding furiously and her mind was lurching with the realization that she had forgotten Will for a split second. All she could think about was what Jack meant to say through those five words. It was like hearing "I love you" for the first time when it was entirely unexpected. Was there something more to the story? Had she given him bait somehow? She glanced out of the corner of her brown eyes and noticed Jack's arms flailing wildly as he swiveled around and swayed from side to side. Wasn't he steady a moment ago? Did he not walk toward her without a hint of swagger? Elizabeth finally looked back up innocently and smiled slightly at her fiancé. The word stung.

James clipped Jack's mysterious compass shut and then tossed it to the pirate, who caught the contraption with ease before lashing it back on his belt. James arms instinctively crossed behind him, much like Jack's stance a while ago, and his eyes scanned Elizabeth's figure.

"Trousers?" he asked inquisitively.

"Scandalous, isn't it?" Jack replied with a chuckle, arching both eyebrows in Elizabeth's direction. Her own furrowed in frustration, shaken by the encounter.

The trio lingered, silence between them except for the creaking of the giant vessel, and then Norrington smugly nodded to Elizabeth and ordered, "With me, Sparrow."

Jack turned back to Elizabeth, his arms dangling limply as he smirked, and then he sauntered forward, almost trotting toward the helm. Comically, James rushed after the man, realizing Thomas, who was easily swayed by anyone, was the helmsman at the moment.

"No!"

Elizabeth heard James mutter under his breath, along with a fervid curse, and the woman nearly sputtered with laughter as James raced after Jack's slithering movements, his arms flapping like a fish out of water and a smile breaking across his face. She had never heard James Norrington utter a curse, let alone one so cutting, and it made her laugh that it was Jack Sparrow that had riled him up. She was certain the pirate had no intention of altering course: Jack merely wanted to steer, as he always did. She sighed deeply, forgetting those curious thoughts about Jack as her single folly, and then gripped the railing once again, watching as the deck of the _Dauntless _was swathed in white and its lofty masts protruded like ghostly sprigs, the sails acting as its leaves. She turned back toward the sea and then squinted as a giant mass of rocky points came into view: Isla de Muerta was before her.


	15. Chapter 15: Now or Never

(OT: Long chapter, but I didn't feel right chopping these scenes up. And I just had to explain Elizabeth's escape. It bugged me that she had sheets and a longboat and none of it was explained. I mean really, those were some pretty darn big details. Plus (later on )I know you're dying to see W/E interaction again. BTW, I did add a few little bits in the fight...Nothing incredibly altering. Except this chapter would be very upsetting if you didn't know the ending...

Anyway, the next chapter (perhaps chapters) will be my last. They will cover the rowing out to the _Dauntless _(plenty of thoughts and sentiments exchanged), the trial, discourse between Jack and Will, and then the final scene in the film with a little added bit at the end.

"A trial?" you may ask. I decided that to extend this a bit, Jack and Will would be discussed and tried aboard the_ Dauntless_ on their trip back to Port Royal. Plenty of goodies there. Because if you hadn't noticed, Governor Swann said, "I granted you clemeny _upon our return_ to Port Royal..." Meaning it wasn't decided until they arrived. I love technicalities.

--does slightly evil laugh--

Also, I will never try to flip from one person's point of view to the next like I did in this one. It was agonizing to do Jack, Will, and Elizabeth's thoughts through the battle, but I think it turned out all right. I will stick to two at a time from now on haha

So enjoy and let me know what you think!)

Elizabeth slammed her hands against the French doors, yanking on the white handles as she screamed, "This is Jack Sparrow's doing!"

The bloody man. How could he do this to her when she has specifically told him she wanted to be there? Oh yes, now she would make sure she weaseled her way into his plans. The woman spun around, panting as her red jacket slipped off her shoulder, and her eyes flitted around the organized cabin. She paced the cabin's length, bumping into a chair before chucking it aside angrily. She wasn't going to just sit idly and wait for Will and Jack to return. These were cursed, immortal pirates...Undeniably indestructible. And what if things went wrong? With the crease deepening between her brow, Elizabeth strolled over to the slanted windows and gazed into the dark, shining night, the moon illuminating her presence, and spotted Norrington and his crew in crowded longboats, waiting for something. For Jack? Well he more than likely would disappoint them.

Elizabeth grunted as she realized, as with the _Pearl,_ the windows were locked, and then she began to set aside melted candles and loose pieces of parchment to make a suitable seat. She hopped up on the ledge, folding her long legs as she pushed back her falling hair.

The young woman awkwardly swiveled on the tapered edge, flopping her legs against the side, and leaned her slim back against the window, uncomfortable and infuriated. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen; she wanted another chance with Will and another moment to earn her worth again. As she rocked back and forth, trying to conjure up an escape that Sparrow had employed in the past, Elizabeth yelped and hugged her left leg to chest, feeling a sudden pinch along her calf. After examining the small pulsing, red mark she doubled over to see there was a prominent gap between the seat and the platform it sat on. Smiling in curiosity, the woman stepped carefully off the ledge and pried at the slight, uneven crack, lugging open the window-seat.

Her inquisitive eyes flourished with color at the sight of heaps of creased cotton material that was overflowing in the small container. She hauled out sheet after sheet of damaged fabric, realizing that the material was from tattered sails that were not discarded, and tugged on certain pieces to check that they were strong enough. If she could lash the ruined sails together and manage to open a window, she could crawl down and...And then what? How would she smuggle a single longboat? Let alone manage to position it within reach? Or could she swim that far? Shaking her head, Elizabeth decided not to trouble herself with those details for now. After dropping the sheets into an unruly pile, she trotted over to the opposite side and tugged on the edges of the window. It was painted and bolted shut.

Didn't the Commodore ever make a mistake in creating the "perfect" ship?

Cursing quietly, Elizabeth stalked toward the desk, rifled through several drawers, and then withdrew a rusty-handled knife, smiling at its sharp blade. She returned to the window, examined the sill, and then began to carve, cramming the knife between the wall and the window and happily watching the pain crack and splinter as she sawed and sliced the bolted latches in half. Elizabeth relished in the accomplishment, and after stepping slowly in reverse, kicked up her feet at high speed and smashed into the window. With a loud POP the window burst open and cool night air wafted over Elizabeth's burning face. She released a little squeal of delight and then leaned as far as possible over the edge, watching as a lone longboat with two rugged sailors began to stroke toward her.

"Hey, hey," Elizabeth hissed, glancing to the deck hesitantly. She then shouted, "Sailors! You there! In the longboat!" She ducked back inside, listening for soldier's footsteps but then resumed her position out the window and waved both of her slender hands.

The men swiveled from side to side and then finally looked up to the lady careening toward them. Clearly baffled, they paddled toward Miss Swann.

Elizabeth knew there was no other way; the two men were too far down to whisper. "Look," she said. "I need your boat. No questions, if you please."

The older of the two said, "But Miss—"

She thought on her feet. "Sailor, I am the Governor's daughter and the Commodore's fiancé. Would you rather face their wrath or mine?"

Wrinkles formed above the man's eyebrows.

Realizing she required a new tactic, Elizabeth gently said, "Please, I need...I need your boat. Just tie it to the ship, climb up the gangway, and I'll do the rest." He still seemed wary of the request, and the fellow beside him nudged him a few times, so Elizabeth pleaded, "Dear Sirs, I know that you both have a heart pounding beneath those white uniforms. I swear on pain of death – _she had once read that Jack Sparrow had said such a phrase—_ You shall not be blamed for whatever comes my way and I will not inform anyone of your good deed of lending me the longboat. Do we have an accord?" She flashed a quick grin.

It worked. The men reluctantly nodded and withdrew a braided rope, swiftly tying the boat alongside the _Dauntless_ before fleeing up the gangway. Perhaps persuasion was better than combat.

Leaving the window open, Elizabeth hurried over to the crumpled cotton sails. The woman quickly bound the five sheets together with taut sailor's knots, suddenly appreciating Mr. Gibbs' indulgent lessons on the crossing from England. She then paused when she heard a familiar voice and then swiftly spun around, spotting her father through the foggy door window.

"Elizabeth?" the Governor said. "I just want you to know I..." She glanced over her shoulder, hoping to dear God he wouldn't open the door, and then turned back around. "I believe you made a very good decision today."

Well, it didn't feel very good, Elizabeth thought as she strapped the last two sheets together, rubbing the thin material between her fingers. She heard the shuffling of her father's footsteps and then heard a chair creak as he sat down. Elizabeth sighed and strode silently toward the window, angling the battered sails carefully after securing the first to the railing and then lowering the fabric down the ship's polished side. Just a little farther and it would...Yes, the sheets now drooped in the waves, drifting across the ominous surface. The Governor's voice glided toward his daughter, but Elizabeth paid no heed. She hitched a leg over the window, appreciating the freedom of her trousers, and then clutched onto the sheets like a tick, wrapping her legs about the malleable material and easing herself down, down, down toward the floating longboat. The Governor's voice rose.

"Elizabeth? Are you even listening to me?"

Fortunately it took a moment for her father to unlock the cabin, which gave Elizabeth just enough time to plop into the longboat. Her plan, flawed as it was and depending entirely on chance, had succeeded. The woman picked up each wooden oar and plunged them into the ocean, making circular motions as she rowed far, far away from society. She considered heading straight toward the cave but then thought better of it. She needed reinforcements...She needed friendly pirates who just so happened to be imprisoned in the brig of the _Black Pearl_.

Well, so be it, Elizabeth thought. If she could pull one plan off, why not another?

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Ropes scratched and burned his flesh as Will was shoved through the winding passages of Isla de Muerta, and that scraggily, overweight pirate, Pintel, kept a steady and firm grip on his shoulder, turning him every which way. Flames wavered beside the man's head, and Will dared not question their direction as they swerved to the left. He pondered the image of Elizabeth following these ghastly, tainted pirates, probably struggling more than he with that voluminous harlot gown she had worn and quivering from fright.

Splashes of muddy water seeped into William's shoes, but he managed to not think about the squishing sound each time he took a step. As much as he hated to think of Elizabeth being dragged through his dark pit, he couldn't help but marvel at Elizabeth's strange placidness when he had arrived. She did not cry or panic; she took charge in battle and played what cards she had left.

The group of pirates veered again and Pintel pushed down on both of Will's shoulders, forcing him to crouch down. He struggled to stay upright with his hand bound so tautly, but Pintel gently yanked him up each time he started to fall toward the ground. It was strange what this pirate was willing to do. Would a bloody chin really make a difference in how he died? Will rather doubted it, even if he did appreciate the gesture. The group rose and stomped into a larger passageway, and Will arched his back, attempting to stretch some of his aching muscles. He couldn't see his feet or his legs any long, but he continued to follow simply by listening. They swerved around another corner; Will imagined Elizabeth's horror and curiosity as animals whistled above their heads.

"Want to see 'em?" The scrawny fellow (Ragetti) asked.

Will shook his head but the man lifted his torch high, illuminating the black, deathlike creatures that dangled above their heads. Bats. Disgusting bats that sucked on fresh blood. Lovely. As Will grimaced, the scrawny bloke chuckled, and he then waved the ignited torch like a toy, stirring the bats to everyone's great displeasure.

"Get down!" Will shouted, and the company ducked and huddled against the damp floor as bats swooped overhead and the flapping of their wings echoed in their ears. Light screeches could be heard and a single scream from a pirate as a bat nipped at him. Will placed his forehead gently against the rocky ground, smelling the rotting area and wanting to smack the skinny man right in the jaw.

Was it a rule that if you were to become a pirate you had to lose your common sense? Will wondered.

Finally, the passionate beat of the creatures' wings reduced and one by one the pirates rose. Will lunged out of Pintel's grip and glared at the perpetrator of the entire fiasco but just as he opened his mouth the bo'sun snatched away the fellow's torch and extinguished the flame with his black bare hand.

"Problem fixed," he murmured.

Satisfied, Will turned back to Pintel's anxious expression and nodded to him.

"Lead on," he said.

Pintel released his grip and merely pointed now as the trudged into a wide, level ravine. It was dry and the air lost its clammy feel as Will glanced to the man leading this entire procession. Barbossa. What he would give to have a true go at the man! To really withdraw his sword and steal a slash at him. Pintel softly pushed him forward, and Will was suddenly alongside the captain, growling under his breath.

"Ye see that ledge, boy? Your young missy nearly took quite a plunge, but being such a kind-hearted man, I saved her from a truly terrible fate. For if you fall down there, you'll die of shock and fright before you even hit the ground."

"Then I guess you deserve my gratefulness?" Will asked snidely.

Barbossa grinned, his yellow teeth glimmering as his hand fondled a ripe, green apple.

"Sorry to disappoint you," Will added as he stalked past the pirate. He was more likely to confess his every secret to Jack Sparrow than deliver a "thank you" to Captain Barbossa.

However, Barbossa soon took the lead once more as the crew was plastered against the wall, scooting slowly along until they finally entered the treasure exploding chamber. Will no longer looked around in awe. The captain tossed an apple into the air and then caught it with a grin, immediately traipsing up the embankment toward the Aztec gold. The bo'sun followed, his bare, sweaty back glistening as he grunted and followed. Then, Will heard Pintel's grating voice in his ear.

"No reason to fret," Pintel said lightly. "It's just a prick of the finger, a few drops of blood."

Will felt another grimy hand squeeze his shoulder and saw that it was Twigg, his coarse brown beard bobbing as he spoke.

"No mistakes this time. He's only half-Turner. We spill it all!" With all his might Twigg shoved Will forward.

So it wasn't his place of torture; it was his gravesite.

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Elizabeth heard the groan of pirates, the clanging of immaculate silver swords slashing away at their victims, and the bellow of Barbossa's roaring voice. Unfazed by the darkness anymore, the woman swiftly crawled, slithered, and galloped through the dank passageways and burst into the booming chamber of skeleton pirates facing two mortals.

She looked around, not expecting the battle to be taking place already and watched as Jack and Barbossa futilely hacked away at one other. She skipped over the stone path as if they were clouds, bouncing toward Will's dashing figure who was punching a man in the face. He had apparently grown used to the sight of undead pirates, but Elizabeth still found it hard to gaze at the decaying men, skin peeling from their scalps and traces of hair hanging limply off their chins. Elizabeth hunkered behind a mound of goblets and pearls, peering around the treasure as Will whipped his sword left and right, thrusting two pirates backward in unison. Elizabeth nearly screamed as Will spun around to face a revolting tall man who tossed a grenade toward him. It missed Will's twirling figure and instead, landed beside Elizabeth. She leapt up and tumbled into to the next pile of gold, plastering herself against the floor as Will rolled in the opposite direction, part of his face lying in a puddle of water. The pirate stalked toward the young blacksmith, his sword aimed at the boy, and Elizabeth gripped a large staff with both hands and thundered from behind the heap of gold. Forget about waiting.

"I'm gonna teach you the meaning of pain!"

"Do you like pain?" Elizabeth lurched from nowhere, and Will half-smiled. She side-swiped the pirate with the heavy staff, knocking the man to the ground with an exultant groan. With her unfastened golden locks draped over her fierce eyes, she grumbled, "Try wearing a corset."

Will smiled at the clever comment, suddenly thinking that perhaps it was a good thing he and Jack rubbed off on her. Elizabeth angled the staff toward the man, and Will greedily grasped it, jumping to his feet and his fingers playing with the encrusted gold as he stared at his love...Who happened to be wearing a soldier's uniform. He wheezed out a breath and smiled sleightly, wishing he could take her away from this mess but knowing the medallion was waiting for his blood as well as Jack Sparrow's. Elizabeth's sweet eyes suddenly widened and flared as she spotted Jack.

In decrepit, skeleton form, Jack and Barbossa's swords clashed and broke apart, and Jack gripped the old man's shoulder and spun him in the circle, slashing the man across his upper back. Barbossa groaned and swiveled around, lashing out at the pirate. Will shook his head. If both were cursed, what in the world was the point in fighting?

"Whose side is Jack on?" Elizabeth asked incredulously.

"At the moment?" Will shrugged as the staff slipped through his hands.

Elizabeth trotted toward the three pirates, grimacing as she hoisted the shimmering baton into the air. A man uncorked his head from a golden bowl, laughing giddily as if it were a game, and with a light scream, Elizabeth smacked the man across the face. Another skeleton lunged forward, his sword raised, and Elizabeth thrust the staff forward, blocking the blow and agilely swinging it in a circular motion, chucking the man's sword across the room. She heard Will growl and glanced over as he stooped to the ground, his muscular legs kicking out at the pirate's lanky feet.

"Will!" she cried.

As she ducked and swept beneath a pirate's legs, Elizabeth sprung on her toes and hurled the staff toward Will. He clutched onto the middle of the golden rod, swinging it over the bald skeleton's head before promptly slapping him in the face. Perhaps they were actually getting somewhere; he and Elizabeth...On one, unified team. It felt blissful even in this wretched clutter of a situation.

Will bashed the next pirate's face in, watching a few bones shatter and trickle down the man's nose. Elizabeth trod toward William and swiftly grabbed the staff on the opposite side, casting her beloved a wistful glance before running alongside him, ramming the rod through all three stomachs of the pirates. The bald man groaned, his feeble teeth shining in the moonlight. The three men tugged on the staff, too stupid to pull it one way or the other as Elizabeth and Will ambled around the trio. Elizabeth managed to smile at the accomplishment, but she looked to Will, waiting for the next step. After avoiding the blade of one pirate, Will recovered a tar black hand grenade from the ground and ignited the wick with the flick of the wrist, using a fallen torch as a light. With a cunning smile, knowing the plan would work, he shoved the round, sizzling weapon into the middle man's stomach. The pair pitched forward and shoved the pirates into the shadows of the gold, the moonlight no longer glinting off their eerie, dilapidated bones. Elizabeth warily grabbed Will's forearm and lightly hauled him backward.

The pirate patted his stomach in vain, trying to retrieve the hand grenade and then, with furrowed eyebrows, weakly cried, "No fair!"

"Run!"

Her delicate, lovely hand slipped from his arm as he turned and bounded from one gray rock to another, heading toward the hoarded mountain of gold. Will couldn't bear to glance back over his shoulder; Elizabeth would be fine. He repeated the phrase to himself over and over as he heard the rupture of bodies and felt a slick piece of ripped cloth smack his back. There wasn't a scream: She was fine. He had to get to the Aztec gold, split his palm, and sever the curse forevermore— saving Elizabeth, himself, and Jack. His buckle shoes slipped on the coins, but he lunged forward, gripping onto the solid earth and clambering to his feet. The medallion. He must...break the curse. Finally, when he was three feet from the top, Will gazed longingly over his surroundings, waiting for Jack to notice...Hoping Elizabeth would understand.

Jack parried a blow from the rivaling captain, his teeth gritted as he observed the man's exhausted expression. Invincible but not indefatigable. It could definitely work to Sparrow's advantage. His clever eyes brightened and narrowed as Will mounted the overflowing riches, his face fixed in determination. Now all he had to hope for was that the whelp wouldn't be injured. It'd cause a bit of an up-rise from the girl. Wait, when did she arrive? He glanced at the lass as she bounced from one stone to the next, following Will's path and oblivious to the range she was putting herself into. Damn her.

Barbossa was still turned after that last gust of energy, and Jack swiftly tugged the ghostly coin from his trouser pocket, slammed the blade against his palm, and slit his flesh, pulsing the coin in his blood and feeling the curse seeping out of him. It would all be over in a second, but being immortal, that had to count for something, didn't it? The immortal Jack Sparrow. What a life that would be. To watch the world change about him...Then again...Ladies would be harder to satisfy as would the drink... Will took his final steps up the mound, and Jack slashed at Barbossa, thwarting the man's charges easily.

So long, Immortality.

Barbossa spun to the side as Jack smacked his shoulder, and the pirate leaned forward, flinging the coin toward the lad and for once praying that it would hit its mark.

Will felt Barbossa's gaze rest on him as he wrapped his hand about he medallion, his own blood mingling with Jack's as he clutched them carefully over the chest. He heard the resonating click of a weapon...One which Will was now too familiar with...And his eyes bulged in apprehension as Barbossa's flintlock pistol tilted toward Elizabeth. She froze as she balanced on a rock, partially leaning forward as the danger struck her.

Her life couldn't end this way. Not without saying a final word to Will...Not by being killed by the bastard who sentenced her to a lifetime on a god-forsaken beach. But what could she do except stand there, waiting for Will to drop the coins? Jack withdrew his own pistol; her last hope. Shoot him now, she thought. Now!

Unsteadily, Elizabeth planted both feet upon the tapered rock, and her hands quivered. Her golden locks slung into her face, crowding around her panicked gaze. She considered toppling over...Perhaps she could move before— Elizabeth jumped and her eyes bulged as she waited for the pain to dribble into her heart, but then, Elizabeth realized that the bullet was not lodged in her flesh, it was lodged in Captain Barbossa's.

Smoke trailed off of Jack's pistol, his eyes leveling with his mutinous first-mate as he continued to aim his pistol at the girl. Leave her be, Jack wanted to say, but kept his gaze unwavering. He couldn't show fear that it might not work or worry that Elizabeth may fall prey to the horrid man's devices.

"Ten years you carry that pistol and now you waste your shot." He smugly smiled.

Will shook his head at the two captains. For once, Jack Sparrow did something Will greatly appreciated; he actually saved Elizabeth's life.

"He didn't waste it," Will said. The man's crinkled face turned to him. Will opened his hand and the blood-stained medallions clinked into the container.

Elizabeth smiled and sighed; he did it. Jack and Will worked as one team and shattered the curse that had tortured Jack and the ship that had haunted her dreams. She then stared at the pair as Barbossa's sword clanged against the damp ground. Both of the man's wrinkled hands pried at his vest, tearing it straight down the middle. Even from afar Elizabeth could see the trickle of blood swelling around the quarter-sized wound and seeping down the dirty v-neck blouse. He seemed to freeze as Jack slowly lowered his pistol, satisfaction across his usually smirking face.

"I feel...Cold."

The first emotion for Barbossa to feel in a decade was death, and relief swept through her veins as the man collapsed backward with his misty grey eyes. Elizabeth leapt from one rock to the other and trudged through the shallow water until she was facing Jack, staring blankly at the ripe green apple rolling from the deceased captain's hand.

"Thank you," Elizabeth said, "again." She smiled slightly. How could she ever repay him?

Jack merely nodded. A smirk spread from ear to ear and then he ambled toward the stacked treasures, seizing one right after the other and tucking them beneath his arm.

Strangely, Elizabeth strolled back to the other side of the cave, standing in the glimmering, white light and staring at a mound of small treasure chests that flooded with draped untarnished pearls and dazzling necklaces. It was with this gaze that the woman realized she could have died just like Barbossa, a bullet through her heart without knowing what it felt like to have pure bliss again, as she would if she were with Will and as Barbossa would if he still had the Pearl and his mortality again. Elizabeth felt no sympathy for Captain Barbossa, but she did feel the burden of marrying a man she did not love swelling inside. If Will would just say something or even place his lips against her own, she could, with a bit of guilt and full-heart of silly, foolhardy love, refuse the Commodore for the last time.

Will strolled toward the woman but then paused, gazing at Elizabeth distorted yet gorgeous reflection in the murky, glitzy water. She was slim and agile, indecent and masculine, and loved and longed for. He clenched his fists; it was now or never.

He approached the woman, his shoes clacking against the cold ground, and Elizabeth Swann slowly turned, her eyes slightly glossed over, as if she were near tears. They weakly smiled at one another, and Will couldn't decide what to say. If he could just— He leaned in, feeling her steady breath against his cheek but then withdrew when a loud crash made the couple jump. Elizabeth's gaze drooped to the silence as he turned and gazed at Jack's sorting methods. The crashes continued as he turned back to her; he was prepared. He was going to tell her...

"We should return to the_ Dauntless_," she whispered.

Will's bottom lip bobbed uselessly as every emotion and every thought bubbled and drained. He was qualified as a pirate now. He was as good as dead when he climbed aboard that galleon again, and Norrington would see to that. Norrington...Elizabeth's betrothed. She had accepted him, refused Will without a second thought, and now he would be forced to hear or even worse, _watch _her marriage from afar and yearn to hold her beautiful form in his arms.

"Your fiancé will be wanting to know you're safe."

Tears broiled and simmered in the corners of her eyes, and she rapidly swiveled around and strode toward the entrance to the cave, her pace quickening without a thought as she slid into the darkness. He didn't want her; he didn't need her as she needed him. It was a foolish thing to rest her mind on...To think that he would truly want a spoiled governor's daughter. Elizabeth finally slowed down as she plastered herself against the wall, her mind reeling. It was true; James would be awaiting her arrival. Perhaps he would even try to embrace her when he found out she was alive and unharmed, but she didn't want his love. She never did. With a heavy heart, Elizabeth wiped away the dribbling tears, climbed into the longboat, and sunk her tear-stained face into her hands.


	16. Chapter 16: Lady Justice aka Miss Swann

(OT: Hmmm...Not my best chapter, but I do really like how the dialogue turned out. I hope you at least smile at the end. Ah, Elizabeth sees her future...Enjoy!)

Elizabeth rubbed her foggy eyes when she heard the shuffling of footsteps and lifted her gaze to Jack, who looked ridiculous with a golden crown atop his head and an empty, equally valuable goblet in his hand. He cast a slight smile at her as he climbed into the longboat after William, naturally seating himself at the bow. The pirate's eyes were glossed over and sparkling at his magnificent defeat of Captain Barbossa and the promise of his lady, the _Black Pearl_, awaiting him, but the realization dawned on Elizabeth that she hadn't broken the news to either man.

"Jack," she said softly, leaning forward in her seat as Will grasped the oars on each side. "The _Black Pearl_ is gone."

"Gone?" The man swiveled in his seat, squinting at the uniformed woman but strangely not in an incredulous way. "My ship is gone?"

"I tried to convince them, but they only took in account of what the Code said."

Jack swirled back around, clearly to ponder this new development. It certainly couldn't help him; no, it would hurt him deeply. Elizabeth glanced at Will, whose muscles wrinkled through his sweaty blouse as he stroked toward the entrance of the cave. He showed no emotion, his face stoic like a statue, and he barely looked to her as he paddled the longboat into the dark opening. The moonlight enveloped them, and the trio stared at the _Dauntless_ in the distance, all equally distraught and solemn. When it came to penalties, nothing good could come of the Commodore and the Governor aboard the same ship. Will's head sagged, and Elizabeth yearned to reach out or to touch his hand, but she withdrew even more, tucking her arms close to her chest.

"I'm sorry, Jack," she said.

He didn't turn around this time. The pirate continued to gaze at his bleak future. "They done what's right by them. Can't expect more than that."

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Plastered against the side with her legs sprawled, Elizabeth peered through the slanted glass as the men congregated, some in their finest uniforms, polished and bright, and others, namely Will and Jack, in outfits that were faded and distressed. Jack wriggled from Murtog and Mulroy's grip and promptly plopped in a chair, lounging in his shackles as if the meeting hardly concerned him. Will remained standing directly across from the window, and Elizabeth managed to duck before Will saw her. Her inquisitive eyes rose over the ridge again, and this time she did not meet Will's gaze. No, she met a soldier's red-coated back. So much for spying on them.

She pressed her ear against the wall, straining to hear the Commodore's words. They were mere, unfortunate murmurs, but there were clear proclamations from James and her father, and she heard Jack's drawling voice attempting to persuade the improvised courtroom more than once. Will's familiar tone never sounded off as what seemed like hours dragged on. Elizabeth finally pulled her legs to her chest and leaned against the window, realizing she was getting nowhere by listening to the muffled trial.

The woman began to think about the happenings through the night in the morning. They had insisted on escorting Miss Swann far, far away from the convicts, but she had planted her feet and once again got her way. Then, in brief, choppy conversations she gathered that the matter had to be solved before the _HMS Dauntless_ returned to Port Royal. Not after. The punishment was to be decided now and a foreboding feeling had plunged through her stomach at the thought.

She grimaced when Jack's wrists were ensnared, and she shot off a snarky retort, which Jack gladly added on to. What right did the Commodore have? He rescued her once again, broke a curse, and managed to lock away and kill notorious pirates. And Jack deserved to be chained? Punishment should truly be left to God then. Will had remained silent, as if everything was his fault, and she constantly caught him staring at her...As he had for nineteen years. She wanted to talk to him alone and form a clever plan of convincing her father and James not to punish either man, but Elizabeth was kept in sight. Weatherby might as well have glued Elizabeth to his hand. He treated her like an unfortunate child tangled in a horrid mess, but she knew what she wanted and what she needed. Jack had once said she wasn't in chains; she would like to hear his thoughts now.

Elizabeth flipped around when Will's voice rose above all the others. She tilted and twisted her body so she could see his figure, his clenched fists, and his flushed cheeks.

"You call that reason? How is any of that fair?" Will stepped into James' face, his teeth locked. "Can one good deed not trump over the others?"

"Life is not fair, Mr. Turner, and Mr. Sparrow had deceived the law repeatedly." For the first time, Elizabeth heard the Commodore shout, and Will stepped in reverse, shaking his head.

Elizabeth slumped back into her seat. She should be in there helping Will and Jack. And why wasn't a woman allowed in court? She had tried to disguise herself a full-fledged man by stealing a sailor's hat and wrapping up her hair; she had begged and pleaded but it was all in vain. Besides, who had a trial aboard a vessel? No one, she thought. No one did because it wasn't a proper court. But then again, these were peculiar circumstances that involved the infamous Jack Sparrow.

One voice overlapped another and then it was squalor of right and wrong, the law and the Code—Wait, the Code? Yes, it was Will's voice and then Jack's invoking pieces and technicalities of the Code. She smiled and laughed lightly. Jack had somehow converted Will's thinking; it was strange thing, but Elizabeth admired it, even though she knew every word was hopeless at this point. Elizabeth was proud of Will; he finally took a stand on something he absolutely believed in. He wouldn't admit his handiwork or fight for affections from a woman, but he would stand for what he thought was right. It was a start.

Voices lowered and mumbled, men scuffled into juries, and then she heard the clatter of the cabin door. Elizabeth scrambled from her hiding place, meeting Will just as he burst through the door. She grabbed his arm impulsively, praying that he had persuaded them.

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Will shook his head at her hopeful, innocent expression, cherishing the slight touch, while he knew his own face was drained of color and his heart was palpitating in infuriation.

"Once we return," he said, "Jack is to be hanged."

"No!" Her eyebrows furrowed as the swaggering pirate was hauled past her, entrancing Murtog and Mulroy with his own riveting version of the death of Barbossa. "They can't do this."

She didn't want to believe that they were that unfair and that cruel. Her father was an understanding, sweet man. He was the governor for goodness sake! He had to do something. Her slender hand slipped from Will's arm, and she turned, swiftly catching sight of the Governor and James strolling side by side. She stalked toward him, her arms swinging and her legs pumping like fiery gears.

"Father," she said, clutching on his arm and trotting in front of the two wigged men. "You can't allow this." Governor Swann and Norrington skidded to a halt, the latter rocking on his buckle shoed toes. "Don't you know that he saved me?" Her father gazed at her in a patronizing manner; he wasn't even listening. "I owe him my life...twice. He shot Barbossa not only for himself but also to keep me alive."

"He is a pirate, Elizabeth, and it was murder, regardless of who he saved. Jack Sparrow has committed numerous crimes against the crown; I cannot forget the law and the law cannot forgive Jack Sparrow."

Will hesitantly loitered alongside the lady, unsure of how to chime in without making things worse. His own life was in limbo and attempting to rescue Jack from the gallows again was not a task that would benefit him at the moment. It was stupid to even discuss the matter in the captain's cabin, but Will was unable to restrain himself when someone mentioned the defiling of Miss Swann; they knew Jack's reputation. But Will knew Elizabeth, and she wouldn't have allowed anything of a lascivious nature so easily. And that shouldn't have been added to the crimes of the pirate. No, if Jack was to be judged he should be judged on his past and present...And nothing but the truth.

"You speak of the law as if it were a person," she said accusingly, shoving his wide chest. "You and you alone decide his fate."

The Governor kindly grasped his daughter's hands and held them for a moment. "Under the jurisdiction of the King, Elizabeth."

"Do you even hear me?" Elizabeth lowered her voice, yanking away as tears swelled behind her eyes. She wasn't going to cry. She wasn't going to look vulnerable just to be comforted that terrible, childish way; she refused to be the damsel anymore. Elizabeth was their equal...Their lady justice.

She said softly, "You could change the rules. Please, don't do this. He's a good man." Governor Swann glided past her, striding confidently toward the helm without a second glance. Elizabeth's head quivered and her lips dipped as she asked feebly, "If you were in my position and if you were indebted to Jack, could you go through with it? Could you kill him?"

"Yes," he said. The Governor turned on his heels and nodded gravely, looking toward Will in strange curiosity.

Will no longer had to force himself to maintain eye contact with a superior figure, and he stared right back at the elderly man's frowning face. Was he upset by (what he would call) his daughter's lack of understanding or by his own? He glanced to the Commodore, who wore an utterly expressionless gaze; Will wondered what thoughts flitted through his mind with no one knowing and what secrets the man might harbor. He showed no pleasure for Elizabeth's return. Not even a single embrace the previous evening. And yet, William knew Norrington loved Elizabeth like he did. With a dream of the future so fierce, nothing could pierce it until she spoke heavy words. But he did not show it. Will finally withdrew his gaze and stared at Elizabeth. Her cheeks were flushed with a horrific red color and her eyes nearly bulged out of her head. She looked quite like he did during the make-shift trial.

"You're lying."

"Elizabeth," he said gently, resting his hand upon her shoulder.

Her muscles flexed, making her shoulder slump, and the governor's hand dropped away. She didn't want his comforting caress; Daddy wouldn't help her –save her—this time. If Jack was certain to be hanged, what lay in store for Will?

"It is settled."

Elizabeth watched her father trot up the short staircase, and she spun around, a vicious scowl upon her lips as she strode toward Will. His muscular arms were limp, but she wanted them wrapped around her, and she wasn't going to be refused. She stepped into his body, laying her head upon his stiff shoulder and both of her hands crawling up his spine.

Will immediately reacted, at first rigidly as he stroked her back and then he squeezed her into his musky, sea-salt scent. His parched lips pursed together as he heard a barely audible sob. She tucked her face into his dirty neck, and they gazed sorrowfully at one another for a moment. Will was sorry he hadn't taken notice of his chance in the cave; he was sorry that she was now betrothed to someone else, and he was sorry he had never leaned in and kissed her. His hand, rough and tender, glided up to her blonde head and he played lightly with her rumpled locks, not even caring that soldiers and her superb fiancé stood not five feet away.

Elizabeth closed her eyes, wishing for a dream, for sleep, for something other than Port Royal to come. She then felt Will's comforting arms relax, and she slid from his grasp, her lips folded against her teeth as she wiped away a few stray tears. His wonderful hands still gripped her forearms on either side, and her own lingered on his waist before finally slipping from him. She glanced to Norrington, whose eyes drifted over the railing and whose nostrils flared as he shook his head.

"James," she said, ambling toward him. "I—"

Was this his chance? Would she break such a splendid engagement just like that? Will stepped in reverse, realizing that if she wanted to speak to the Commodore it would be probably be best if he wasn't staring at the pair.

Her slender fingers grazed his sparkling jacket as Elizabeth finally found the nerve to look him in the eye. The tears had vanished quickly. She did not doubt there may be more to be shed, but at the moment, Elizabeth couldn't allow that feeling of weakness to seep in. She suddenly heard Will moan, and she swiveled around, nearly falling to her knees.

Shackles clanked at his wrists, the chain-links dangling between his arms, and his puffy white sleeves were tucked between the iron and his flesh. Will gritted his teeth as he felt the strong hand of a soldier grip his shoulders, guiding him toward the nearest gapping hatch. So that was it then; his fate was to follow Jack's lead. So be it. At least he knew what he did was right.

Elizabeth clambered behind the red-coats, swerving in front of them with her head bobbing. "What are you doing? Release him."

It was useless, Will thought. He was in chains for the remainder of the voyage, and he could accept that.

Elizabeth glared at the effervescent crimson red color and then looked to her fiance. The man's eyes leaked with distress and guilt and then they were masked with his business-like gaze. This was exactly what she was just fighting for. What had Will done? How could they arrest him?

"I said, release him." Her voice quavered and Elizabeth inhaled harshly. "Tell them, James."

"I cannot. I apologize, Elizabeth, but it is under your father's orders that Mr. Turner be placed in confinement with Mr. Sparrow."

"What?" Her fingers scrunched into two mighty balls. "No, you can't do this."

"It is not permanent." Norrington strode toward William and said, "I am sorry about this Mr. Turner."

"I understand," Will said softly. "You wouldn't want an ill-conceived escape attempt to happen right under your nose."

The young soldier wrenched her beloved's arm, twisting him toward the entryway to the dank lower level. Elizabeth couldn't stop herself. She charged forward and grabbed the red-coat by his lapels.

"Release him now."

Will lurched away from the confrontation.

"Miss, I am obliged to abide by the Governor's—"

_Enough!_ Muscles rippled beneath her jacket. She slung back her arm and pitched it forward, bashing the soldier square in the face. The soldier staggered and then stumbled to the deck as Elizabeth rubbed her sore knuckles. Had she really just hit an innocent man who was simply following orders? Her gaze lowered as the man wiped blood from his narrow, throbbing, nose. Apparently so. She covered her mouth with one hand, and Will suppressed a laugh, his shackles clashing together as he turned around to gaze at the scene. He and Elizabeth shared a solid stare.

What a woman.

Elizabeth was horrified at what she had done and Will was having a difficult time keeping a straight face.

With wide, incredulous eyes, Norrington trotted toward the two as Elizabeth offered her hand to the soldier.

"I am so..." She helped lift the young man to his feet. "I am incredibly sorry. I didn't—"

Muttering, the soldier scurried away, pinching his nose to keep the blood from flowing down his blouse.

Elizabeth then grabbed Will's arm, unable to help herself. She whispered his name and stroked his callused hand, searching for words to say.

"Don't worry about me," he said with a half-smile. It was as if...As if they were lovers separated for eternity, and she wouldn't let him go. What a mistake he had made back in that cave. What a stupid mistake. The Commodore called another soldier over, and he glanced back at the woman as he was tugged away from the lady, his head held up high as the red-coat and the blacksmith stomped toward the brig below.

Her breathing was rapid and her heart thumped madly as she stared at Norrington. She could conjure up nothing to say. She had hugged Will in front of her fiancé, punched a soldier without a second thought, and then treated Will as if she was having an affair with him. Who in the world was she? The voice of Jack Sparrow drifted into her thoughts.

"Pirate."

She shook her head as James approached and then she meandered toward the vacant captain's cabin, slamming the door behind her and sinking into the nearest chair.

(OT: We are nearing the end. Next up Will and Jack share a conversation in the brig, (possibility)Elizabeth goes to the prison the night/day before/of the hanging, and then the final scene of the movie with Will and Elizabeth...)


	17. Chapter 17: All Jokes Aside

(OT: The next will be the last chapter and the last scene in the movie... Enjoy these prison scenes of my own making. Not meant to be J/E; just more set up for the second, Savvy? I hope I captured Jack well enough! Let me know!)

As Will trudged forward with a hand pinned temporarily to his right shoulder, he realized this seemed to be a frequent activity. Being led this way and that with him having no say in the matter. He supposed that he knew partially what convicts and Jack felt like each time they were captured.

The red-coated soldiers steered him into the final passageway, his opposite hand gripping a glowing lantern, and Will sighed as the rattling of another's chains greeted him. And then, the raucous sounds of abundant criminals echoed in his ears. He had forgotten about the _Black Pearl's_ faithful –now non-cursed— crew.

The soldier hoisted up the lantern, and the scene was illuminated; the floor was dry and mopped, unlike the _Pearl's_ surfaces, and the prison cells were no where near rusted. They had certainly been used, but nevertheless they had been maintained. Gritty, bandaged pirates swathed the meager cell on the left side, their arms and legs poking out of the steel bars and their curious eyes turning toward Mr. Turner and the soldier.

"What's he doing in here?" Will heard Pintel hiss to Ragetti, but no one could find an answer for him.

"And why's Sparrow get a cell of his own!" Another man cried out, hidden from view.

The soldier didn't even balk at the bellows as he hooked the lantern over a peg on the far wall.

Will's gaze swiveled to the right, where Jack's shackles hands protruded through the square gaps, and his yellowish teeth glinted in the pale light.

"Come to join me, have you? Welcome!" Jack smiled as he stepped away from the gate; he relished in that fact that he possessed his own cell while the others were cramped and overlapped one another. Serves 'em right for deserting their Cap'n.

The soldier squeezed Will's muscles and directed him toward the pirate.

"Actually," Will said, his eyes alight, "I came for the soiree, don't you know?"

The red-coated man jammed the jagged key into the hole, turned it, and the gate creaked open for its new prisoner. Jack didn't make a bold move to try escape. He merely loitered at the entrance with a smug smirk.

"Ah-ha! So the blacksmith makes jokes."

Will snorted as he was shoved inside the small compartment alongside the pirate. He could feel the stare of the mutinous crew beside him, glowering and scowling and probably seeking revenge on the boy who ruined their freedom. Well, they would probably be headed in the same place. So why not start now? But instead, Jack was tapping him upon the shoulder and testing the lad's waters.

"Go ahead," Jack said, "Make another. I'm in for a laugh."

The soldier's gaze flipped from one man to the other and then he grimaced and turned, striding right back out the grating gate. Will swiftly spun around, realizing his wrists were beginning to burn and ache from the taut grasp of the cuffs.

"Hey!" he shouted. The gate banged shut, and Will clutched onto the cold, hard bars. "What about my manacles?"

The soldier continued to meander through the corridors, leaving the single lantern behind. Jack's arms swung at his waist, marveling at dear William's strange behavior. Never had he heard such fierceness and bitterness from the boy.

"Bloody—"

"And he curses too," chimed in Jack before Will could say another word or criticize the stupid soldier.

He had met that man before; he probably had made the weapon on his belt. And this was the thanks he got? Sore places on his hands? Wretched Royal Navy.

"What novelty is this!" Jack continued. "What changed you, eh?"

Will turned and squinted, wondering what maintained the captain's chipper attitude when he faced death's chilling hand. He shook his head, plunked onto the nearest bench, and watched as Jack strolled toward him, his eyes still glittering and his gestures still as flamboyant and unique as ever.

So he must not 'ave gotten the girl after all. Promised to the Commodore and that was it. Jack could only slightly relate to the boy's predicament; he never invested that much emotion in one person. He found humans to be...unreliable. Elizabeth was something else though. Nothing like the strumpets and far from the widows and wives he had seduced in past years. What else made such a man furious though then being locked away from his love and his lady? For Jack, that was the _Pearl._ For William, apparently it was Elizabeth.

He muttered, "They didn't remove mine either." He then paused, his kohl-masked eyes narrowing. "What'd you do to get in here with me?

"I'm a risk apparently."

Apparently? Jack couldn't resist the opportunity to poke a bit of fun. Perhaps raise a smile.

"Sprung a pirate from prison, helped murder another, and sought to steal away the Commodore's fair bride..." Jack put his twitching index finger to his chin, stroking his mustache as if in thought. His gaze then lowered back down to the boy's face in amusement. "No, I don't see the risk at all."

Will's eyebrows furrowed as Jack casually strolled the length of the cell, ignoring the scowls of the pirates who were still entranced by Mr. Turner's confinement, and his fingers tapping across his nonexistent flintlock pistol. They had removed his weapons, every last one of them, but Jack didn't seem to mind. He occasionally glanced to the far wall that was now brightly lit by the lantern and gazed at his precious effects. Will stared at the dangling, mighty compass that had led them to Isla de Muerta. It didn't point north, but then...Did it just point to that concealed island of treasure or to more places? He almost asked, but by the look of his fellow inmates, he realized it would be unwise to try to get Sparrow to unveil the contraption's secrets.

Jack continued to saunter back and forth like a door would suddenly appear or the gate would magically spring open. He didn't look nervous nor did he look comfortable. He was somewhere in-between.

Will tilted his head to one side and then leaned back against the moist wall, his eyes partially closing and then flickering back open. A blazing, ashen fire started to simmer. A passion of hatred and loyalty and admiration swirled in his stomach and slithered up his throat. Jack had betrayed him and then betrayed Barbossa and then was back to the "Good" side until Norrington shoved him back into the other alongside those horrid pirates. It was a muddled mess by anyone's account. Who were his alliances? Did Jack really have any? Gibbs had taken off with his ship, Barbossa was never really a friend at all, and this crew...They would more than likely follow anyone with authority, so they couldn't truly be judged. Will would never regard Jack as a friend, no matter what happened, but Elizabeth...She was his only real alliance. Will felt jealousy rise and fall. She had faith in that man and his plans, but...As Will realized, she had to have some faith in him as well.

"I thought I was going to die back there."

Jack turned around with one eyebrow arched. Curiosity ate away at him. So the lad apparently didn't trust him. It wasn't like it was a new idea to the pirate. He wasn't supposed to be reliable _all_ the time.

"I thought Barbossa would slit my throat and you were right there egging him on."

"Not much of a choice, really," Jack said mildly. "Besides, I think we're squared considering all I've done for your bonny lass."

"She's not mine," Will whispered, regretful of wasted time. "And I'm not angry, Jack." The blacksmith shook his head, dirty brown locks falling in his eyes, and he then lifted his gaze to the pirate. He really was like the bird. Sparrows were known for their powerful beak. And Jack, of course, could talk his way out of anything as far as Will could see. Will brushed back his slightly curled tendrils and gazed at Jack with unyielding eyes.

"But I somehow convinced myself that even if I died and my father died, at least he would be free of the curse. And if by some miracle you hauled me out of that cave..." He saw a smirk flash across Jack's lips, as if engrossed in the thought of saving Will. "If I lived I could finally step up and meet Elizabeth's expectations."

Jack laughed.

Will frowned, knowing how stupid he was to share anything with the pirate. It was leverage to him. All jokes aside. William was advantageous through his weakness and strength in Miss Swann, and Jack knew it.

"When we were marooned on that bleedin' hot spit of land—" Jack face contorted in disgust and then broke into a smile. "All I heard was 'Will this' and 'Will that.' You earned your worth long ago, mate." Jack eased into a seat across from Will, crossing his ankles and shifting positions until he was finally comfortably leaning against the cell. Long journey it would be, he thought, leaning against those cool, ridged bars. He wasn't certain he would make it, especially if the lad continued to yammer on about Elizabeth and his misfortunes. But Jack knew Will wouldn't...

It was merely Sparrow's ploy in his own mind to make William Turner seem worse and more like a whelp than he was. It was easier to use him that way, instead of thinking of Will as noble and heroic and all those other bloody qualities the pirate could easily admire. It was like thinking of him as an object instead of a potential friend.

-0-

Every incident from the moment he and Elizabeth Swann met rolled through Will's mind. From the trivial things when Elizabeth would wave in the market or tease him playfully to the serious moments when their friendship would dip into intimacy and then float back to the top.

He remembered the tautness of her slender finger's grasp when they waded into the water (during her swimming lesson) and the way she clutched onto his body, so distracted that she didn't notice the flushing of his cheeks. He fondly recalled at fifteen when Elizabeth tossed aside a silly wig after she toppled in the water, forgetting the portrait she was supposed to be sitting for. And when they were alone in the library at dusk, their noses almost touching, their voices in greedy whispers, and their breathing labored and patient, neither prepared to make a move. All were events he cherished, even when she was infuriated because he refused to call her by her Christian name.

And all this time he had ignored her signals? Had felt too lowly? Was he so stupid that he had to wait for a pirate to clear his head? For a perilous journey that he might've died on to realize that she might love him as well? And now his chances were spoiled. He had missed the boat. The opportune moment that Jack had warned him about. And against his usual judgment of trusting a pirate, he actually listened to Captain Jack Sparrow. He had been worthy of Elizabeth. Perhaps he still was. But with Jack's death sentence hanging in the air, his own life seemed to be in jeopardy. Jack had helped save Elizabeth as well. How was it different? Because he was the town blacksmith? Because he had known the Governor and his daughter since he was twelve years old? Will felt he couldn't rely on that anymore.

"I never meant to be this," he murmured. It was unintentional. What was he doing? Expelling even more truths to the pirate? Something strange compelled him though.

"To turn pirate?"

"I'm not—" Jack eyed him quizzically, tacitly cutting him off. "I used to believe in the law and my blood—the blood of a _pirate_— was something I could forget once you were gone."

"Forget?" Jack asked mockingly. The lad still had much to learn, and as much as he didn't want to, Jack still offered up his opinion. "You still haven't squared yourself with the fact that it is in your blood, boy, no matter what you do or say."

It was like he didn't hear him. Will didn't falter. "I didn't know I would have to go to such great lengths...Even if I'm willing to die for Elizabeth." There was barely a pause. He had to reinforce himself. "And I still am."

Jack leaned forward, draping his arms across his knees. He could actually admire that in a person because truthfully, he wasn't certain he had anyone stable enough as a friend that he would give his life for. Jack writhed for a moment, his lips curling and his eyes wavering in their stare, debating on whether or not to say exactly what was popping in his mind. Will needed someone to set him straight. The young blacksmith went to great lengths with due reason, he accomplished every one of his tasks, and he never strayed from being who he was. Jack heaved out a giant sigh. Bloody good that honest streak did him. Hopefully Gibbs was right. Maybe one day he would be an actual pirate and the honest streak would fade.

"Do you see these hands?" he asked rhetorically, turning one palm over and then flipping over his bandaged hand. He rubbed the calluses mounted atop his fingers and the ones that glided all across his flesh. The line deepened between Will's brow, confused by the sight. Jack swiftly grabbed the blacksmith's hands and did the same, turning them slowly over, feeling the boy's coarse hands against his own.

"Rough," he said. "We know an honest day's work. The Commodore doesn't know that. He doesn't know how to work from scratch. We do. _You_ do. Mate, those are hands worthy of an honest pirate, and you've got a story worth any man or woman's life."

Jack finally loosened his grip, and Will clapped his hands softly together, feeling the calluses for himself. They were blacksmith's hands, but Jack's looked exactly like his. Bootstrap's blood did course through his veins day and night, but he never felt the urge to pillage and plunder and find a ship, but did he qualify as a pirate? After everything he had risked and overcome...Was he counted as the thing he never wanted to be?

"Is there such a thing? An honest pirate?"

"Your father."

Relieved of his duty, Jack spun on the bench and reclined, his eyes fluttering shut. Will would understand...Hopefully. He was not one to spell things out for anyone. Unless it was something of consequential nature...Then it might be best to outline all details. But technicalities were usually the pieces of the puzzle he needed. When people were mum on conditions without realizing it. That was when he could wiggle his way into lives and schemes. Jack unconsciously smiled and his bejeweled fingers grappled for his hat, wanting to tip it over his eyes, but the pirate then realized it was gone. He cursed himself, avoiding the thoughts that led to why his precious leather hat was not in the vicinity, and then he crossed his arms, sighing deeply. At least the ocean still lurched beneath him for a time. At least he could still appreciate the build of such a mighty vessel, unlike the _Pearl,_ but almost as beautiful as her. He heard Will scuffle around, apparently laying down as well.

He stared up at the dark ceiling, contemplating what Jack had said. It took a moment for it to click and then Will tilted his head toward the man and cocked a half-smile. Jack was saying he too was an honest pirate and there was nothing wrong with that, wasn't he? The man who criticized and scrutinized Will Turner actually said, in a matter of words, that he should be proud of himself and his father. He released a soft laugh at the revelation. He knew Jack must detest the fact that he actually said that, as if Will were his friend, and he then stared at Jack's placid, undisturbed expression after watching him reach up and pat his head, obviously looking for his hat.

"Jack?"

The pirate perked up, arching one eyebrow and turning slightly toward William.

"Thank you."

"Uh-huh," Jack murmured. He rolled back over, his hands interlacing like a man in a coffin and then his eyes flicked closed, imagining his splendid figure at the helm of the _Black Pearl_ with a lass at his side. His eyes then opened when the figure and the face of the girl came into view. Elizabeth? Haunting his dreams in the sweetest way possible? Well—his eyelids shut—at least he could enjoy it for now.

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She was like an elegant spirit, her cotton nightgown flowing behind her and her silky golden locks framing her beautifully structured face. Elizabeth glided down the steps, slow yet hasty— frightened yet intent— and her fingers crawled along the cold stone wall as she neared the bottom, yellow straw strewn thinly about the floor with two drowsy soldiers blocking the prison cells. No chance in hell those prisoners would escape this time. Elizabeth had once fancied trying to persuade the guards to release him using her womanly wiles, but what was the point? Where could she hide Jack? Or rather, where could Jack hide? She shook her head at the forthcoming death.

She paused and leaned against the staircase wall, her heart thudding loudly. Why had she come here? She tilted toward the entrance and saw the moon hissing and glowing above, encouraging her. It was past midnight, and she was at the Port Royal prison in her nightgown to have a casual visit with Jack Sparrow. Uh-huh. That was what she was here for..? Elizabeth took a step up and then back down. The coach was still waiting for her patiently...But something drew her toward the prison like a magnet. She had to apologize to him. To look him straight in and the eye and let him know. She straightened up, realizing this would be her last visit with Jack or probably any pirate.

She had attended a few of the hangings, strangely satisfied and disgusted as one by one Barbossa's crew was discarded during the week. She had heard that two men had escaped...Unfortunately the very ones that oh-so-fondly called her, "Poppet!" That really did make Elizabeth want to retch. Vile men and all deserved a sudden drop and a short stop as swiftly as possible. But there were a few still clanging in the cells alongside Jack Sparrow. Oh, Sparrow had earned his own cell and his own guards by Norrington's orders. And she couldn't convince anyone that Jack deserved to live. She had emptied her coin purse when she hauled Will out the horrid mess. Perhaps she should just go back and curl back in her luxurious bed, knowing the hours would be long and her mind would never rest.

Elizabeth tenderly hitched up her skirt and stared at the numerous bruises along her legs from her recent voyage and then glared at the small woman's pistol tucked into blue-ribbon topped stockings. It had not but one bullet, and it certainly wasn't meant for anything serious, but it would rescue her from any maulers of the night and perhaps lend a hand in the gaol. She wasn't sure why she was staring at the pistol, but it was tempting... So wickedly tempting to at least try to release Jack. But once again, sensibility rang true in her mind, and she sighed, strolled down the steps, and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she approached Jack's cell.

"I'd like a word with the prisoner."

Both guards exchanged incredulous glances as they wiped their eyes of sleep. Clearly she was not meant to be out running amuck so late especially in a nightgown.

"We're to stand guard no matter the circumstances, Mrs. Norrington."

Elizabeth flinched inadvertently. "It's still Miss Swann, thank you." She breathed in and out; that name sounded so terrible. It was never a surname she dreamt of. Her hand slipped down her leg, and the little pistol's makeshift holster bulged against her knee.

"Please, grant us a little privacy."

The guards warily looked from one another and then shook their heads.

Her long nails dug into her hands as she scrunched up her fist. She was impatient. Nothing was going right, and this really wasn't the time to test her. This was one thing she wanted. A final word with Jack. Just a brief goodbye and apology. Nothing worthy of storytelling or whispers. Elizabeth turned away from the two men, flipped up her skirt, and withdrew the small pistol. It was hardly threatening, she thought. But it would have to do. She whipped around, her hair fiercely crowding her eyes as she pointed the pistol at one man and then the other.

"I don't intend on releasing him nor do I desire to shoot either of you. So move aside if you value your lives."

The guards' eyebrows arched and without a second glance, they trotted toward the next cell and curiously watched as Elizabeth shoved the pistol back into her stockings and knelt alongside the rusted gate.

"Jack," she said softly. His eyelids were closed, his chin was tilted to his chest, and his body was completely sprawled against the ledge of the prison wall. She stretched her arms through the gaps in the cell. "Jack!"

He stirred. "Oh, shut it."

"Jack, it's me, Elizabeth."

One eye flicked open to make sure it wasn't a trick and then the other. He ambled toward her. Elizabeth could see the stress upon his face; he clearly hadn't gotten any sleep. Probably missing his hat as well, Elizabeth thought, recalling many a story when the infamous Jack Sparrow would retrieve his leather tricorne hat before departing scandalously. But his masked eyes still sparkled and a naughty smirk crept at the corners of his mouth. He crouched on the opposite side of the cell, and Elizabeth's eyes lowered and then lifted, but Jack continued to gaze at her innocently.

"And what do I owe the pleasure of this visit from the future Mrs. Commodore?"

Elizabeth's face twisted once again at the name. Why did these men insist on torturing her? She crossed her legs to show Jack that she wasn't going anywhere for a while.

"I tried, Jack. I tried everything, and I'm so...I'm so sorry." It was all that rotated in her mind. "I begged my father, I pleaded with Norrington, reminded them again and again that you saved me, and I even wildly thought up plans to help you escape, and I...Nothing. I couldn't do anything for you. I'm so sorry."

Jack's lips didn't part, but his hands waved in a calming motion that was futile. Elizabeth shook her head, her voice reeling high and low.

"And I'm going to have to marry James, and my father is so blinded that all he can think of is how I'm doing, and I don't even know _what _Will wants, and you, Jack...Oh God, I am so sorry. I wish I could do something."

"You could loosen your grip upon me hands." His eyes glanced downward into the darkness of the cell.

"What?"

Elizabeth abruptly realized that she had grabbed both of Jack's hands without even thinking and her fingertips pressed against his small, tattooed wrists. She released his hands, patting them both before crossing her arms into her lap.

"Oh, sorry."

"And you could stop apologizing."

"Jaack," she dragged out his name. He was kidding. Always joking. Never serious. "I just thought once we returned—"

"But you did save dear William," he interjected soberly.

"Yes, granted clemency on the terms that he leaves the Royal Navy alone when it comes to missions of any sort." She paused and smiled faintly. "He agreed, of course."

"And about this marriage... It's really a wager of who will fall out of love first, so why not get a head start and not love the groom at all?"

So that was it then. There was no acceptance of her apologies because to him they weren't due. So all she had to do was move on; Jack apparently already had in a matter of seconds. Elizabeth chuckled and wiped the corners of her brown doe-eyes, expecting moist droplets to pour down her face. Except they were completely dry.

"I think I've run out of tears," she said. "I didn't think it was possible, but I've done so much crying. It's pitiful!"

"Just for lil ol' me?"

"No," she said, smacking his arm playfully through the bars and reminding her of their ocean frolic. "There were other reasons too. You're not the only one that matters, you know."

"But I'm a close second to William, right?"

She wasn't even certain. Elizabeth still felt indebted to that deceitful, clever pirate that saved her life repeatedly. She shook her head and nervously combed a hand through her smooth locks, her other hand playing with the frayed bottom of her nightgown. "I haven't cried like that since I was a little girl. I'm not a weepy woman. "

He smirked. "And no one would 'spect you to be, Miss Swann."

"Elizabeth."

"Ah, can't seem to keep that straight these days." He rocked on his heels, his hands scraping the floor before returning to the antique, withered steel bars. "So what's the time of my demise, love?"

She watched his lovely, decorated fingers wrap around the cell, release, and then grip again. It was in the pattern of her mind. Hold onto someone, release him, hold onto another, and release him. She loathed it, and it took a moment to register his question.

"Tomorrow," Elizabeth said. "I'll be there, Jack."

"I don't doubt it, darling."

Elizabeth heard the rasping of footsteps, and she swiveled around. An elderly man with spectacles resting on the bridge of his nose craned his neck around the bend of the staircase. "Miss!" he called in a crackled voice. "Miss, it's best time we go."

"Oh," Elizabeth said gently. "All right. I'll be there in a minute." She spun back around, and unsuspecting, met Jack's face so close to her own. His tanned nose and parted lips poked through the gaps of the bars, and his eyes twinkled as her pure, peppermint breath wafted against his own. She gripped the steel bars, unintentionally touching his fingertips and then withdrew, falling partially backward and landing on her rump with a thud. She propped herself up on one elbow, staring at Jack coyly as she puffed a strand of hair from her forehead. He cleared his throat and smiled again.

"Sorry, love."

"Uh-huh," Elizabeth muttered, crawling back toward the cell. She recovered from the encounter quickly, even though she was still shocked by the proximity between them. "I suppose this is goodbye then."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes," she said somberly. She wished she wasn't going to see him again. Not in such a wretched state with his hands bound and his effects forsaken. Elizabeth dusted off her white skirt and resituated the little gun as her stockings slipped a little down her calf.

"What's that?"

"Oh." She laughed. "A pistol for...Protection."

"Small, isn't it?" He draped both of his long arms through the bars, and his sleeves rippled in the breeze from the staircase. He tilted his head to one side, obviously staring at her legs.

She wasn't fazed this time; it was as it was normal to be ogled. Well, she supposed it was normal on Jack Sparrow's terms. Elizabeth said, "Well, I couldn't very well carry around a pistol like yours."

"You could."

"I just don't choose to."

Just like he chose not to remember the number of people he killed, Elizabeth would always refuse to remember the number of people she might've hurt or tarnished or threatened. The young woman turned and slinked toward the stone steps, her nightgown trailing her once again in a ghost-like fashion and the darkness almost entirely enveloping her except for the slight slant of light from the moon. And then, she glanced over her thin shoulder at the notorious captain and smiled waywardly.

"Goodbye, Jack."


	18. Chapter 18: Forever Yours

(OT: Last chapter. I added a cut line and few lines between Elizabeth and Will that I made up. Yes, it is a bit sappy, but to me, Elizabeth's last line is a little adorably sappy hehe.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoyed it! And don't forget...For a continuation through the second and third movie check out my other fic "When the Rain Began to Fall..." )

Elizabeth shuffled along the stone path, her bulging peach dress hindering her movements along with the pressure upon her chest. Will had finally said it. He finally said, "I love you." And he meant it with all his heart. It inflamed her mind when he gazed at her with those beautiful brown eyes so innocently and finally ignored every piece of propriety that he had adhered to from their first meeting.

The young woman shoved aside a few huddled women, hiding from the protruding bayonets and the chaos that was still ensuing around them, the event still swirling. She had watched in wonder as Will and Jack worked side by side as if their maneuvers were choreographed and their minds were united, and she had swiftly scrambled to her feet, feeling her gown drag and her undergarments shift with the feigned faint. She caught sight of her father's embroidered gray coattails flapping wildly as the soldiers finally ensnared the two pirates, gathering around the two men in a wide circle. She pushed through the throng, her eyes widening as she gazed at William's gallant deed.

"By throwing in your lot with him?" Governor Swann cried. "He's a pirate!"

"And a good man," Will said without wavering.

His grip released upon his polished sword, and it clattered to the firm ground, defining the steady line between right and wrong. The man didn't hesitate when he spotted Elizabeth propelling through the crowd with her intense, pursed lips, and he overlooked the fact that Jack was still swaggering and cowering behind him, pointing to himself and mouthing, "That's me."

Nothing mattered to Will except this; he wasn't going to allow Jack Sparrow to die without a fight. There was what a man can do and what a man can't do, and this was something he was obliged to accomplish even for a pirate.

"If all I have achieved here is that the hangman will earn two pairs of boots instead of one, so be it. At least my conscience will be clear."

Elizabeth's pouted lips parted slightly, entirely proud that Will finally made a stand and no longer cringed beneath her father or Norrington's hand. The woman waited for her moment...For a time when she could expel that she loved Will as deeply as possible, and she wasn't going to enter a loveless marriage so simply. If it was during Mr. Turner's hanging, then so be it, she would announce it to the entire city of Port Royal... Elizabeth then blinked out the thought. She was betrothed to James, not some foreign man. She could never humiliate him like that, but she had to tell Will... Before it was too late.

The Commodore stepped forward, his golden tasseled sword poking against Will's gullet. "You forget your place, Turner."

He breathed the heat in his heart. "It's right here between you and Jack."

Elizabeth barely smiled, leaning into the conversation as if the words were emerging from her own mouth. It would wound the dear Commodore to see her...It would hurt him deeply being disgraced in this manner, but she couldn't...She had to play her last pawn and in turn, allow everything to be laid out.

"As is mine," Elizabeth thrust through the crowd, strolling past the two regal, uniformed men, and gazing at Will with a quiet intensity she had always felt simmering between them. Relief and curiosity swept across his face briefly as she blissfully clasped his rough, callused hand. It felt incredibly right to be standing beside him. Not behind him. Not in front. Just side-by-side as equals. She bit her lower lips as she watched the emotion of dread and expectation and disappointment dribble down her former fiancé's face. It was a lashing to her own heart to hurt someone so deeply, but simultaneously, she was enthralled by the feel of William's flesh upon her own, sending electric currents through her body.

"Elizabeth," her father hoarsely called. "Lower you weapons." With his hand crossed behind his back, the Governor glanced around at the red-coats quizzically. "For goodness sake put them down!"

Finally, the soldiers withdrew their smoothbore long guns and their sharp bayonets vertically hovered above the citizen's heads. They remained corralled around the trio, and Will grasped Elizabeth's other hand, squeezing it tautly without hinting at his flurry of emotions that he so wished to shout. He didn't expect her to charge through and take him so effortlessly nor did he even know if what he said would make an impact. But as her smooth hand pulsed against his own, Will knew it was worth the risk and worth his life.

"So this is where you heart truly lies then?"

Her lips were tightly pressed together. She supposed it was worse to torment him with false affections rather than never telling him at all.

"It is," she said delicately, watching his eyes float to the ground.

The rustling of Jack's movements did not deter the couple as they stared at one another, their eyes piercing and kind. Elizabeth lightly smiled, tempted to pull him close and plant wet kisses down his face.

"I didn't know—"

"That I would interrupt your escape?" Elizabeth interjected. "You looked like you needed a little help."

He grinned and squeezed her palm again, her linen bandage scratching against his calluses, making the experience all the more real. The pirate's distant, ridiculous words drifted back to Will, and one eyebrow arched as the captain flounced over to the Governor, his arms swinging joyously, and smiled genially.

"...Rather good about this," he finished, trotting closer to Weatherby on his toes and rising in the man's revolted expression. "I think we've all arrived at a very special place, eh?"

The Governor winced at his awful breath, and Elizabeth repressed a laugh, glancing back to Will tentatively. Was this part of the plan? Or was Jack improvising, as he resourcefully could? Will looked absolutely surprised and unaware, and she shook her head slightly, realizing there was no such thing as a grand scheme of things with Jack Sparrow. It was jumping off a cliff to see if the man could fly, and if he couldn't, he found someone who could flap their wings.

"Spiritually. _Ecumenically._ Grammatically." He then pranced toward the Commodore, light on his toes as he patted the man's chest with both index fingers, keeping his eye contact steady with the man. "I want you to know that I was rooting for you, mate." He lowered his voice. "Know that."

Jack ambled toward the short flight of steps, apparently knowing exactly what his next stride would entail, but then he paused and turned to the happy couple. Will tilted his head, his eyes lifting from under the brim of his curled hat, curious as to what Jack Sparrow's (evidently) final words to him and Elizabeth would be.

"Elizabeth," he said softly, his eyes leaking with clear sorrow or regret or some emotion that he didn't often employ...At least genuinely.

The woman swiveled her head, her gaze inquisitive as the captain stared at her warmly, and his alight brown eyes were solely on her expression. Good Lord, she thought, what now? Memories danced through her memory. From that first infuriating encounter to that blissful, careless evening swaying alongside the fire with rum flowing rapidly through their lithe bodies, and she found there was little regret in those events. Would she have ended up holding Will's hand if it hadn't been for Jack? He had acted as a catalyst to her life; that pirate brought her the tiresome, frightening adventure she had longed for as a girl and awakened her from the dream of a perfect world where the law was always right.

"It would never have worked between us, darling," he whispered.

Elizabeth's gentle, fiery eyes narrowed. She wasn't certain of what he meant. Did he actually think they could have ever...That there was a possibility that she might want a relationship... Be quiet, Jack, she thought. Just be quiet for now.

"I'm sorry," he said, dipping his gaze and shaking his head, as if she were a true loss to his heart.

Was she supposed to be upset by that? Perhaps it was just another ploy of Jack's... Another add-on to the stories of women and men he had confronted. Oh yes, the Governor's daughter would be quite the addition, she thought.

Jack hopped up each step, his musty boots scraping against the ground. "Will," he said.

The blacksmith turned his head with Elizabeth in tow, and he was surprised that he too would be granted an authentic farewell.

Jack opened his mustache-framed mouth and then closed it, apparently pondering the proper adieu. His kohl-masked eyes then sparkled.

"Nice hat."

Will smirked as Jack trotted to the edge of the battlement, bracing himself against the stone wall with a gleeful expression on his face as if a noose hadn't been wrapped about his neck only a short while before. He was some kind of man, and Will hoped to retain that sort of pride in his work throughout his life as Jack did.

"Friends," the pirate said as bayonets angled toward him. The Commodore lurched forward, as did Will, prepared to defend Jack once again, but Elizabeth drew him back, gripping onto him tightly. She wasn't letting him out of her sight this time.

"This is the day that you will always remember as the day that you—"

Jack's scrawny legs kicked out, his feet slipping upon the tone unexpectedly, and he toppled backward, not even screaming or releasing a yelp as his sprawled figure plunged into the churning ocean. Will and Elizabeth galloped up the steps, leaping onto the highest part of the battlement and gazing into the whirring sea in amazement. Had he made it? Did he miss the rocks as Elizabeth had?

Elizabeth squinted and then smiled as Jack burst through the surface like shattered glass, blowing out air and flipping back his dreadlocks. Incredible. Just incredible.

"Idiot!" Gillete muttered. "He has nowhere to go but back to the noose."

Elizabeth and Will broadly grinned, knowing better of the captain. Their relieved gazes lifted simultaneously, and they stared in wonder as the _Black Pearl's_ hemp sails fluttered in the breeze, hauling the giant galleon into the open. The mighty ship cruised in the direction of Port Royal, the faithful crew clambering up the braided riggings. Elizabeth bounced on her toes, astounded and excited as a line was drawn and then tossed into the sea, the speck of a pirate soaring into the air and obviously landing on deck of his lady love.

Gillete asked impatiently, "What's your plan of action?"

Elizabeth glanced to James; he looked flabbergasted and frozen. To pass up a notorious pirate and lose his bride was a mighty cost...And she nearly slithered from Will's grip to offer a better apology to her friend.

"Sir?"

The Governor interceded her though, his voice steady and calming. "Perhaps on the rare occasion pursuing the right course demands an act of piracy, piracy itself can be the right course?"

Will was relived to see the Commodore nod contently. He wasn't such a bad man, that James Norrington; he was just trying to choose the right side. And he was capable of being noble. But, Will thought smugly for once, he didn't have the girl anymore.

"Mr. Turner," Norrington said, turning on his heels and stepping onto the stone path among his soldiers.

Will sighed and spun slowly, keen to agree to any punishment even if it meant parting from Elizabeth. He meant what he had said; his conscience was clear of everything that had burdened him, and he found that the woman he adored loved him back. It was all he needed.

Elizabeth yanked on his hand, her fingers trailing his ruffled sleeves. The woman clasped both of his callused hands, tugging him as close as possible without rumpling her billowing skirt. She wanted to tell him that her father could fix it. That it would be nothing but a notch in the past for the rest of their lives and she could finally become Mrs. Turner.

"I will accept the consequences of my actions."

Her long nails clenched against his wrists and then she finally released him, biting her lip before turning to her former fiancé, hoping that he would have mercy as he seemed to have on Jack.

The Commodore hoisted his glinting weapon into the air, swirling it close to William's face. He didn't flinch as Norrington's gaze remained on the sword; he stood there with a dignified expression. He didn't back down then and he had no intention to now.

"This is a beautiful sword," the Commodore said mindlessly. He gazed at Will without a vicious glare or a vindictive twitch of the mouth. "I would expect the man who made it to show the same care and devotion in every aspect of his life."

"Thank you," Will said. He waited for the next sentence to emerge. For iron cuffs to be latched to his wrists or for someone to grip his shoulders and steer him toward the gallows, but nothing emitted. The Commodore simply turned graciously, striding toward the battlement's entrance.

"Commodore! What about Sparrow?"

With a sly smile, Norrington partially swiveled around, "Well, I think we can afford to give him one day's head start."

Elizabeth could nearly burst into laughter at the soldier's quizzical faces. A head start? By the Commodore? Unheard of. It would have been appalling a few days ago, but something had changed, and Elizabeth could easily admire that in a person.

The man then glanced back toward his lost love, with such kind compassion. "Oh, and Elizabeth, the very best luck to you both."

She sighed and smiled, staring at him in appreciation and gratitude. After everything she had put him through and after the torment and the anguish of chasing the seven seas for his bride, Norrington was still able to amiably wish her the best. The soldiers fled the scene with the Commodore in the lead, and Will stepped up to Elizabeth again, half-smiling at her gorgeous, fresh face.

"So this is the path you've chosen, is it?"

Elizabeth hadn't even noticed that her father still lingered nearby. She gazed at Will, hoping he wouldn't hold back anything any longer and bobbed her head up and down slowly. Yes, this was all she ever wanted.

"After all," her father said half-heartedly, "he is a blacksmith."

The comment did not singe Will. He was a blacksmith, and he was proud of that fact because he was a damn good one.

"No," she said softly. She swiped off his hat into her hand, desiring to see the full flare of his eyes in daylight, and she then said, "He's a pirate."

Will leaned in, her pouted, parched lips so enticing and entrancing, and his large hand wrapped tenderly about her neck, pulling her in quietly as her own slender hand caressed his cheek. Their lips grazed and then her mouth gaped open, savoring the taste of his salty lips and the feel of his warm, muscular body firmly pressing against her own. Her hand pinched the brim of the hat, passion enveloping her as her cheeks flushed with color. When their lips finally parted, with a giddy grin they turned toward the blazing sun, watching the _Black Pearl's_ magnificent form glide into the horizon. Elizabeth couldn't imagine a more perfect moment and neither could Will. Her right hand grasped the edge of his stitched vest, tugging him back into her arms.

"What took you so long anyway?" she whispered teasingly.

"It took a certain pirate to remind me of what I might lose." His fingers traced the delicate contours of her high cheekbones and then they glided down her jawline, tipping her chin.

She smiled as he looped his arm about her slim waist, turning her toward the sea again. "I'm not going anywhere," Elizabeth said. "I am forever yours."


End file.
